Children of Steel
by sdbubbles
Summary: "But you can let go; it will all turn to gold; my sweet child of steel." - 'Child of Steel' by Rosanne Cash. Sequel to "Breathe In, Breathe Out." When the worst of the worst happens to one of their children, can Jac and Jonny face the dilemma of a lifetime to spare Serena and Hanssen more heartache? What other demons must be faced down along the way?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the sequel to "Breathe In, Breathe Out," set about two years after the final chapter of that - so about seven years in the future. So it's very AU. Jac and Jonny will be heavily involved, and will face the greatest of dilemmas involving their daughter, Flora, and Serena and Hanssen's daughter, Anya.**

**Sarah x**

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"We're smarter than Daddy, aren't we, darling?" Serena grinned as she and Anya fixed the TV connection Henrik had been struggling with for half an hour. He was thoroughly frustrated; he should have known Serena was going to be able to fix what he could not. It was typical.

He rolled his eyes and helped her out from behind the TV unit. She smiled and went to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner, leaving him with their daughter. After all that hassle with the television, it was amusing to find six-year-old Anya sifting through the CDs. She handed one up to him and said, "Big River!"

He smiled at Anya and the CD – _Right or Wrong_ – he had bought for Serena seven years ago, putting it in the player and finding the track for her. "_Well, I taught the weeping willow how to cry_," they sang together, Anya reaching up for her dad's hands. "_And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky; and the tears I cried for that man, gonna flood you, Big River, and I'm gonna sit right here until I die_."

"Her Daddy wrote this!" Anya happily said.

"Yes, he did," Hanssen agreed, spinning Anya around carefully as the song continued in the background. "How was school today?" he asked. She remained silent. "Anya?"

"Flora's getting bullied."

"What has her mother said about it?" Hanssen asked, knowing Jac Naylor would not take kindly to her child being the victim of bullying at school.

"Jac doesn't know," Anya replied solemnly. "They pick on her 'cause she's ginger."

"Well, I will sort it out, sweetheart, alright?" he smiled, picking her up into his arms, her long dark hair falling everywhere. "We really must convince Mummy to tie your hair up," he sighed, noticing the multitude on knots in the girl's hair. Combing his fingers through them, he undid them the best he could without a comb, knowing she was to get a bath later anyway.

"Daddy," she mumbled. "Daddy, I don't feel good. Feel funny."

Alarm bells did start ringing in his head – they always did when Anya complained she felt ill – but he saw no use in worrying her. "You're probably just hungry," he said. She shrugged and smiled and started singing again. "_So won't you go back down by Baton Rouge, River Queen, roll it on; take that man on down to New Orleans, New Orleans; go on, I've had enough; dropped my blues down in the Gulf; he loves you, Big River, more than me_."

Hanssen smiled, impressed his six-year-old daughter knew a song that was older than he was. He set her down again and took her hands, singing the last chorus with her, "_Well, I taught the weeping willow how to cry, cry, cry; and I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky; and the tears I cried for that man, gonna flood you, Big River, and I'm gonna sit right here until I die_."

She laughed happily and Henrik sat down on the sofa with Anya on his knee and picked up the house phone, dialling a familiar number. "Hello?" a deep Scots voice asked.

"Jonny," he said, having become on a first name basis with both of Flora's parents over the years. Deciding that Flora had the right to be present while she was discussed, he said, "How would you and Jac like to take Flora over to play with Anya for a little while tonight?"

"Um, I'll just check with the boss," he replied, and Hanssen heard him shouting through the house to Jac. "Aye, that's fine. See yous about half six?"

"See you then," Hanssen confirmed, hanging up the phone. He got up and left Anya with the book she had found so he could speak to Serena. "Jac and Jonny are taking Flora over later," he told her, getting plates out of the cupboard. She looked up at him curiously so he elaborated, "Anya says Flora is being bullied by the other children at school."

"Oh," Serena said. "Well, any kid who picks on Jac Naylor's daughter is either very brave or needs their head tested."

Hanssen laughed quietly, knowing exactly what Serena meant; messing with Jac was a bad idea. Messing with Jac's daughter and fiancé was an even worse idea.

He called Anya through for dinner and they ate together, just like they did nearly every night. It wasn't until twenty past six that there was a knock on the door and a girl – only a couple of months older than Anya – came bouncing in, red plaits flying behind her. Well, she seemed happy enough, but then she was a child. Children were good actors. Terrible liars, but good actors.

"I hope you know she comes back from this place singing songs from 1979," Jac quipped, though she was smiling as she did so. "You're a bad influence."

"I know," Hanssen smirked, taking great pleasure in knowing Jac was being wound up by her own child. It was all in good fun, though, and all four parents knew this. The girls immediately ran to the CD player, looking through the CDs. Serena in particular had instilled a love and respect for music into the children; Henrik, Jac and Jonny only encouraged it.

They let the girls go ahead into the living room while they stood in the kitchen for a moment. "Jac, Jonny," Hanssen addressed them, Serena putting the kettle on. "Were you aware that Flora is being picked on when she goes to school."

"What?!" Jac immediately demanded, as furious as Hanssen had internally predicted. "When? Why? How do you know?"

"Yeah, that would be a 'no,'" Jonny translated.

"Anya says it's because she's a redhead," Hanssen explained, feeling Serena's arm snaked around his waist. "She told me earlier."

Jac was livid; her anger was easily seen in her stony face. Jonny seemed more relaxed, as if trying to find a way to sort things out while avoiding the fireworks Jac's temper always seemed to cause. "I suggest you take the diplomatic approach," Hanssen quickly said. "That means, rather than go and slap their mothers, go to the school in the morning and talk to the headteacher," he advised, all too familiar with Jac's infamous short fuse.

"Yeah, I would talk to Flora before you do _anything_," Serena added sternly. "The last thing you want is to be asked what's been said and done and not be able to say you know what's going on."

Just then, there was a frantic scream of, "Mummy!" from who Hanssen recognised to be Flora. When they piled into the living room, they were horrified to find blood stark against pale wooden floor. Looking for the source, Henrik was shocked to discover his daughter coughing and throwing up blood.

"Call an ambulance!" he barked at Jonny as he and Serena got to the floor to comfort Anya and Jac pulled Flora out of the way for them. "On second thoughts, no. Let's get her in the car and take her straight to AAU."

To his relief, nobody argued with him, and Serena helped him pick Anya up and grabbed the car keys. All the thoughts that crossed his mind in that moment were terrifying; all the things that could have been wrong with Anya, and he couldn't make a clinical judgement for his own daughter. All he could do was place her in the car and climb uncomfortably in the back with her, wiping the blood from her mouth with his sleeve, stroking her hair lightly.

"Don't worry," he whispered as Serena set off, barely giving him time to fasten the seatbelts. She leaned her head against his shoulder and Hanssen had to squint through the winter darkness to see if she was still conscious, but she was still awake, though she kept coughing. He shouldn't have dismissed her complaints earlier. He had been careless to do so.

He could have sworn he heard Serena crying in the front; perhaps she was thinking the same as he was. Perhaps she was coming to believe their daughter was truly seriously ill. She was not as together as he was – she hid her emotions well, but events as drastic and frightening as this did break her. He had known that for years. But he also knew that, no matter what, she always glued herself back together, sometimes with his help.

He knew it was sheer self-restraint that she hadn't put the throttle to the floor and broken every traffic law in existence. He feared he would have been unable to resist the need to get Anya help as quickly as possible, which was why he had Serena driving. At least with her driving, they would end up at the hospital in one piece.

When they parked in Serena's parking space near the door, Hanssen quickly, almost on auto-pilot, undid their seatbelts and took Anya into his arms. She felt weak and floppy in his arms, and he did not stop to find a wheelchair, only to let Serena catch them up at the lift.

When they stepped out of the lift on AAU, it was only a split second before a nurse met them and took them to a bed to place Anya in. Hanssen had a feeling Jonny, instead of calling an ambulance, had called ahead to AAU for them. Henrik made a quick mental note to thank him for his thoughtfulness next time he saw the nurse.

He watched, frozen in time, as the on-call consultant ran over to see to her and barked out orders to nurses and registrars. Hanssen had to resist the temptation to step in, the logical part of his mind reminding him that, at this point, his input would not be helpful.

Pushed out of the way as Anya threw up blood again, Serena was soon next to him, her head on his chest. He put his arms around her and said, "It'll be alright."

"You don't know that," she immediately answered. He knew she was right but, as he watched helplessly while Anya was surrounded by a team of medics hastily discussing her treatment, what else could he actually say? He didn't know what was wrong and he didn't know how to fix it. And in his seven years with Serena, she had taught him that, in a situation like this, he had to hold her tight and help her be strong. They had to be strong.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: OK. Advanced warning: I may have made this too sad and angsty for other people's liking. I've learned what I cry at (usually nothing) and what others do are two totally different things. And thanks to anyone who is reading and reviewing - it's always much appreciated.**

**Sarah x**

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A month later, Serena found it surreal that she was in the same situation Sacha Levy had been in all those years ago, though with more turmoil and heartaches woven in between. Rachel's leukaemia and Sacha's determination proved to be the bullet that ended his marriage to Chrissie, much to everyone's surprise.

Sitting with a frail-looking, sleeping Anya, she realised that the chemo wasn't going to take the second time around with such dismal result the first time. Their best option was a bone marrow transplant. That meant she had both herself and Eleanor tested. That meant potentially tracking down Adam Cross.

She stroked Anya's long dark hair away from her pale sleeping face; she was still in a state of shock from all of this. The young girl who loved to sing and dance with her dad and cook and fix things with her mum was gone, replaced by a sick child who struggled to get out of bed some days. It broke Serena's heart to see her youngest daughter like this.

Her oldest, Eleanor, visited when she could. When being an F1 two hundred miles away allowed it. Serena held no ill-feelings over that. She knew it was beyond Eleanor's control and did not expect her to pack in her career for something she could do very little about except wait.

Henrik was taking things badly. He never said as much but his silence was deafening. When he visited Anya, she could see he was forcing himself not to crack. The night they had received the diagnosis of leukaemia, she had heard him cry in bed. She hadn't said anything, knowing it was a task and a half to comfort Henrik with emotions when he functioned on sense and logic, but had let him turn around and put his face into her neck until he was all cried out and was as exhausted as she was, all the while holding onto each other like they were going to be ripped violently apart.

"Mrs. Hanssen," a nurse said behind her. Serena turned around, every fibre of her being aching with stress, anger and tiredness. "Why don't you go home, hmm? She doesn't wake up during the night and you need a decent night's sleep in a decent bed next to your husband."

Serena smiled to herself; she had come to like this young nurse in the past month. She was good with the children and straight to the point with the adults, looking out for the welfare of all concerned.

"Yeah, alright," she sighed reluctantly, knowing the young nurse with the pink streak in her jet black hair was talking total logical sense. She picked up her bag and coat and kissed her daughter's forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. I'll be in with Daddy to see you tomorrow." The nurse patted Serena's arm as she passed towards the door.

In a wave of desperate exhaustion, Serena stopped on the stairs, sitting on the sixth step with her head in her hands. She was lost. Henrik was distant when they ever saw each other, which was less and less these days. She felt isolated and shattered. She felt like her family ties had been unwillingly severed. And every time she saw Anya, she had to fight back the tears and appear positive and strong in front of her, but Serena could not deny what the doctor in her told her: that her daughter was dying and there was only one thing she could possibly do about it.

She resigned herself to her painful debilitation and stood up, her knees aching and reminding her she was not the same woman she was a decade ago.

She drove home slowly and carefully, only noticing now that it was only seven o'clock. It felt like midnight already. So, actually, Henrik would only have been home a little over an hour, if even that. She hoped she could just sit with him for the first night in weeks, both of them awake rather than one of them always sleeping when the other got home. They were both tired beyond belief, their days filled with work, looking after and visiting a sick Anya, and trying not to let the sleepless nights beat them.

She felt a lump in her throat and realised with some discomfort that she hadn't actually cried since the night Anya had first taken ill. She was too cold and numb to cry.

Walking through her front door, she found Henrik in the kitchen. He turned to face her, looking as drained and exhausted as she did. "How is she?" he whispered.

"No different from yesterday. Chemo's still not taking," she replied, choking on that last word. Accepting she had finally broken, she had no second thought about dropping her handbag and walking straight into Henrik's arms. His arms held her tight into his body, rubbing her back in an effort to soothe her. "What are we meant to do if me and Eleanor don't match her for bone marrow?" she asked into his chest. "I don't even know where _he_ is. All I know is he got released."

"And you expect him to donate a part of his body into a daughter he created through drink, drugs and violence?" Henrik reasoned, speaking into her hair.

"It's worth a shot."

"I don't like the thought of him being near you," he admitted. It was the first time he had admitted such a thing, and it broke the dam to let the flood of tears free. "Shh," he hushed her quietly. "If it comes to it, we'll find him."

She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he answered her. "We will get through this," he promised her. "We always do." He pulled away from her and took her hand, leading her to the living room, taking a familiar CD and putting it in the Hi-Fi, picking track number four.

"'Western Wall,'" she mumbled, recognising the quiet acoustic guitar. He put his arms loosely around her waist, her arms loosely around his neck, and danced with her gently around the cleared end of the living room. She revelled in the man she had married, and his soft quirks and hopeless attempts at romance. "_And I've got a heart full of fear; and I offer it up on this alter of tears_," she sang along softly, seeing why he picked this song. It was a song of strength and faith, both of which was rapidly waning within her. "_Red dust settles deep in my skin; __I__ don't know where it starts or where I begin; it's a crumbling pile of broken stones; it ain't much but it might be home; if I ever loved a place at all, it's the Western Wall_..."

He gently wiped the tears from her face as it reduced her to crying once more. He kissed her gently and she put a hand on his face. She had almost forgotten how it was to feel close to Henrik. This situation was in danger of ripping them apart, just like they had watched happen to Sacha and Chrissie. Serena thought she and Henrik were stronger and tighter than that, but she was beginning to doubt her own courage.

It was not the first time she had cried kissing him, and she knew it was unlikely to be the last. She loved this about him. He snapped her out of her auto-pilot state. He reminded her she was alive and not merely surviving this life. And after a month of being in a trance-like state, barely thinking or feeling, she needed that. She needed _him_. Yet again, she needed her husband like she needed oxygen as she pulled away from him softly.

She stared him in the face, his expression unreadable. She knew he felt the pain she did; he was just better at hiding these things for the benefit of others. She sat on the sofa with a sigh, yanking her boots off and pulling her feet up. "Why us?" she murmured. "Wasn't it enough that we suffered before?" she demanded, referring to the torturous months she had spent carrying Anya, when Henrik first made it clear he intended to be whatever she needed. "Wasn't it enough that I had to rebuild myself to give her a decent life?"

She did not usually speak of the initial struggle it had been to keep herself together immediately after she gave birth to Anya; she felt ashamed of the way she had had to fight to be a good mother to her own child. If it wasn't for Henrik, things may have gone so differently.

"It's a test," he replied, sitting next to her. "Life is just a test of our will and courage. It's a test of how strong we are as individuals and as a unit." Of course, Henrik had the answer. He always had the answers. But there were some things even his wise words could not heal anymore. There were things battering her from the inside out that he couldn't see.

Their eyes met and she kissed him hungrily, wanting to remember what it was to feel alive. She knew he had sensed this earlier when he had kissed her so softly; he had a knack for knowing when she needed him, even if he couldn't always see everything she hid from him. His hands slid under her black shirt, his hands on her bare waist. The electric feeling he elicited in her never faded over the years they spent together.

She crawled closer to him, kneeling next to him, and felt his arms wrap around her. She climbed onto him and kissed him desperately. She felt the same desperation from him even in the way he pulled her as close to him as he could. He never could tell her the full extent of his agony, but he knew how to show her the anguish she knew was flooding through him; Anya was not his blood, but she was his child more than she was Adam Cross'. When Anya hurt, Henrik hurt. It was as simple and as agonising as that.

She scrambled off of him and onto her feet, holding her hand out to him. He looked cautious. He always knew when she was using passion to avoid feeling the pain of her life. But he needed her as much as she needed him. She could always tell when he needed the reminder that he was human and therefore fragile.

His hand fell into hers and she gave him a sad smile before she slowly led him upstairs and kissed him softly but passionately at their bedroom door. His hand drifted to the handle, the other unbuttoning her shirt. With every touch, he dulled one ache in her, but dredged up another from her haunted battlefield of ghosts. It was reminiscent of the desperation to have him love her the night Eleanor had exploded in the hospital, revealing Serena was pregnant.

With every despairing kiss they added another ghost to the battlefield they shared the front line in. She felt her shirt fall from her shoulders onto the floor and she undid the first few buttons of his and pulled it over his head.

She did not pay attention for a minute or two, lost in a pit of darkness in which Henrik held the only source of light left, and before she knew it, he was pulling her gently onto the bed, his hands diluting her pain without bringing back her numbness.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This, again, is a bit sad - Jac and Jonny beginning to deal with the first harsh realities of the situation. Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed so far!**

**Sarah x**

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"Ugh, bloody computer!" Jac shouted, almost putting her index finger through the shift key in temper. Six weeks had passed since that night Flora had screamed for help. The image of Anya – a normally glowing child – drained white haunted her as she tried to fill this iPod with her favourite music, having asked Hanssen to borrow his (well, Serena's) CDs last night. "I hate iTunes. Why has it all been deleted?!"

"Calm down," Jonny said, handing her a mug of hot chocolate and cookies over the stack of old CDs. "Let me have a go. You're all wound up and nothing goes right when you're uptight," he pointed out. She reluctantly passed him the laptop and the connected iPod. "Flora's been asking why Anya's not better yet," he added.

"I know," Jac sighed. She was lost; how was she meant to tell her daughter that her best friend – as it had transpired, her only friend – was dying? Lost in thoughts of her sleeping child, she startled when the shrill ringing of the house phone blasted through the room. She leaned over and answered it. "Hello?"

"Jac," the familiar, tired, voice of Serena Hanssen. "Jac, I need your help."

"Anything," she immediately replied.

"I need you to help me find Adam Cross."

"Anything but _that_."

There was no way Henrik knew about this plan of Serena's. He wouldn't have allowed it, or at least not without a fight. Unless there was a damn good reason, Jac knew Henrik intended never to let Serena's darkest, most malevolent ghost haunt his family.

"Please, Jac," she begged. Jac glanced around at Jonny, wondering whether to let him in on this plotting Serena was currently doing.

"No, Serena," sighed Jac. "And not least because Henrik would have my blood if I did."

"He wouldn't! He's already said he would find him but Henrik's likely to break his jaw, which isn't going to encourage him to do what I want. I'd rather it was you," she admitted.

"Why do you _want_ to track down that man?" Jac demanded, though she had a horrible feeling about what was coming. "Oh, don't tell me you and Eleanor aren't a match?" she groaned hopelessly. Could their luck be any worse?! They'd been through the unimaginable and yet Serena and Henrik faced another crisis. It was like someone was determined to tear them apart.

"Got the results today," she confirmed, and Jac heard the crack in her voice. "He's our last shot, Jac. Please. I can't do this on my own and I don't think Henrik could take it."

Jac took a deep breath and, against her better judgement, answered her, "OK. I'll help you. First thing in the morning we'll call the prison and see if he left an address." This made Jonny's head snap around. Jac knew that finding Cross wouldn't be too taxing – he was still in the system and likely on probation – but Serena, loathe as the woman was to admitting it, needed someone to hold her hand. It was something Serena was too decent to put Henrik through.

"Thank you," Serena sighed a breath of relief.

"Has Anya got any treatment tomorrow?" Jac asked.

"No. She's being kept in but they've given up on chemo now. No point in poisoning her if it's not killing off the cancer," she explained.

"I was going to yank Flora out of school tomorrow to go and see her," Jac explained her think. There was a triumphant shout from beside her and she leaned over to see an iPod full of music and movies. Jac made a face at Jonny as Serena began to peak.

"Yeah, feel free. Anya will be delighted to see her," Serena said. "She just wants out of there now, but she's too sick."

"It's the best place for her."

"I know," sighed Serena as Jonny unplugged the pink iPod from the laptop and put it in a large purple silk pouch with the USB lead, plug and earphones. "I'd better go, Jac. Henrik's needing a talking to before he drives himself mad."

"Christ," Jac moaned, knowing how he could torment himself. "Go and deal with him before he presses self-destruct."

"Yeah. Night, Jac."

"Night, Serena," Jac said. She put the phone back in its cradle and turned to Jonny, clutching the warmth of her hot chocolate with both hands. "They don't match," she whispered. "Serena and Eleanor aren't a bone marrow match for Anya."

"Oh, no," Jonny replied, looking a bit shocked and quite upset by the news. He put the laptop, still working as it updated, on the coffee table and put an arm around Jac's shoulders, pulling her into his chest. "That just leaves Anya's biological father."

"Yeah, Serena's just begged me to help her find him, but I can't see him caring very much."

"I'm taking Flora in to see her tomorrow," Jac said. "One day out of school won't kill her. Might do her some good, actually. And she keeps asking why Anya's been off school so long. Why she can't go and see her, and I never know what to tell her, Jonny! I know I don't sugar coat stuff but you can't just tell her her friend's dying!"

Jonny kissed her head. "We _will_ have to tell her, Jac. We can't shield her forever. Anya's her best friend, for Christ's sake!"

"Only friend," she amended for him. "We'll have to warn her before she goes. I don't want her to be too shocked."

Jonny sighed heavily and suggested, "Why don't we wake her and tell her now? She's probably still awake anyway; it's a school day tomorrow." Jac saw the merit in the idea. Flora would have some warning about just how ill Anya was, and in the knowledge she didn't have to face school tomorrow, she might even have a chance of a good night's sleep. She stood up, mug still in hand, and climbed the stairs with Jonny in tow.

She didn't know where to begin. She could break this kind of news to a patient and their family at the snap of her fingers but to her own daughter...where would the words come from? She felt Jonny's hand on her back, giving her the courage to explain the simple yet complex situation to Flora.

Silently they stepped into their daughter's room and turned the bedside lamp on, causing the girl to stir sleepily. "Mummy," she mumbled. Jac knelt down, Jonny crouched next to her, and tried to find a place to begin.

"Do you want a day off school tomorrow, baby?" Jac asked her gently. Flora nodded, her duvet pulled up to her chin and her red hair falling into her face. "Do you want to go and see Anya?"

"Thing is, darlin'," Jonny intervened, and Jac knew he had sensed her struggling to get the words out. They kept failing her. "Anya's very ill. She's got cancer in her blood."

"Is she going to be OK?" Flora asked anxiously.

Jac shared a dark glance with Jonny. "We don't know," Jac finally sighed, pushing Flora's hair behind her ear. "She might not be. There's a problem with making her better. Serena and I are trying to find a way to help."

Flora did not reply for a moment, and Jac's heart skipped a beat; what if she had shocked the girl too much? Flora had never been good with stress. She was a rather quiet child as it was, and stress made her retreat even further. She was rather like Jac remembered herself at that age.

"Can I help her?" their daughter finally asked.

"No, baby," Jonny replied, placing a hand on her small arm. "The only way you can help her is to be her friend, and try and not be too upset by how ill she looks."

"Does she look really bad?"

Jac refused to understate it, because she knew it would only be a worse shock for her in the morning. "Yeah, sweetheart," sighed Jac. "I have to warn you, OK?" Flora nodded, so Jac continued, "If Serena and I can't get the help we need, Anya might..."

"...she might die," Jonny supplied when Jac's voice failed her again. "If Mummy and Serena can't get this man to help, it'll mean there's nothing else we can do to help Anya."

"She's going to die?" Flora demanded quietly, and Jac's heart cracked a little as tears welled up in her daughter's bright blue eyes.

"We're going to do everything we can to stop that," Jonny promised. "You know Serena. She doesn't give up on _anything_, does she?" Flora shook her head in agreement, and Jac wanted to stop Jonny sugar coating it but saw he was avoiding getting Flora upset at this time of the night and grudgingly allowed it. "See? If there's a way to help Anya, we'll find it."

"OK," Flora agreed.

"Try and get some sleep, sweetheart," Jac told her, reaching around her for her floppy-eared bunny and her rather odd looking owl, giving her them to snuggle into for comfort. "I love you," she whispered, pressing a kiss into Flora's soft cheek.

"Love you, baby girl," Jonny added when Jac stood up, kissing the girl's forehead. "Night night."

"Night," she murmured. "Love yous too." Ugh, how Jac hated the word 'yous,' but it was a turn of phrase Jonny had instilled in her since she had learned to speak.

They left the room and stood on the landing; Jac put her hands over her mouth, barely believing she had just had to help explain to their daughter that her best friend was dying. It was only a moment before Jonny's arms locked around her, holding her tight to his chest. She put her face into his neck and let him squeeze her tightly.

They soon went back down the stairs and sat on the sofa together, and Jac was dreading tomorrow. She didn't know what possessed her to do it. But then she wasn't going to refuse her daughter access to her friend just because she wasn't well. If anything, Anya needed her friends, and Henrik had said none of them had even asked if they could see her. Jac thought it was probably just over-protective mothers who wanted to shield their little angels from the cruel realities of life, but Jac had vowed to herself never to do that to Flora. It wasn't fair to let her grow up into a naïve woman and then let her walk into the big, wide world thinking it's all lovely and rosy when it was anything but.

She was also dreading going behind Henrik's back; she'd done it once before and it almost ended his career and put Serena in charge, and as much as she liked Serena, she preferred having Hanssen as the CEO. He made decisions on logic; Serena made them on logic _and_ feeling, and often one got in the way of the other.

"I can't," Jac whispered to Jonny. "I can't go behind Henrik's back. He has a right to know. She's his wife, for Christ's sake!"

"She's also vulnerable," Jonny pointed out.

"So is he." It was rare to have to admit that Henrik Hanssen was actually vulnerable, but the few times Jac had seen him when he was at home, the guise of professionalism shattered, he was breaking at the cracks. He was breaking but trying to be strong for his family. "How would you feel in his shoes? Can't save your own daughter, can't help your own wife, can't stop yourself falling apart? It's not fair."

"He would try and help Serena if she would let him," Jonny reasoned. Jac moaned tiredly and leaned into him, her arm around his stomach. "She's scared of hurting him," he guessed.

"She's scared of _breaking_ him," Jac corrected him. "I have to warn him, at least, in case we do find this creep. I don't know how Serena's going to take it. I don't think she knows how she's going to take it."

"Tell him tomorrow," Jonny suggested. "If she takes seeing that man badly then she's gonna need Henrik, and he'll want to be able to help."

"I know," Jac sighed. "I know."

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought of it!  
Sarah x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is very much an intervention on Jac's part, and I hope it does make some sense. As always, thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Henrik sat in his office, trying to distract himself as much as possible. He was on the verge of shouting some realism into Serena. He could not understand how she expected Adam Cross to do what she wanted. Even at his trial, he had shown little to no remorse for what he had done; he had blamed it on drugs and said it wasn't his fault. That was why they had just pretended Anya was Henrik's when there was no possibility of it being so. Why would he save a child he did not know was his?

He had said to Serena that she could find him if she wanted, but not to expect any miracles – or even any common decency – from him. She was adamant that even _he_ wasn't capable of letting a child die, but Henrik was more cynical. Serena was clinging to hope while Henrik was clinging to reality.

He had offered to help her but she had refused, saying he was right and she wasn't going to bother with him, but Henrik knew she didn't have it in her to leave the matter alone. His suspicions had been confirmed when he woke up this morning to a text from Jac Naylor.

He took out his mobile and looked at it again, feeling slightly hurt that Serena had not told him herself. _Serena's looking for Cross. Got me to help her. Don't be mad at her. She's sparing you the pain. Talking to the police later. They should have him on file. Can't see this going well she's going to need you. Going in with Flora to see Anya tomorrow too. Hope you're holding up OK._

He was trying to do as Jac said and not be angry at Serena but he just couldn't understand her muddled and flawed logic. She should have known he would have suffered any amount pain in the world if there was any chance it would have helped Anya.

Another text came through, Henrik's phone buzzing in his hand. _Going away with Serena. Can you come down to PO and watch over Anya and Flora?_

_Of course. Will be there is 5 minutes_, he replied, getting up and leaving his office with a heavy heart.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Serena and Jac were doing; he had no doubts that Jonny knew of this. It was probably him who encouraged Jac to let Henrik know. He had a horrible feeling he would be putting the newly shattered pieces of his wife back together tonight. He didn't want her to do this to herself; she had suffered enough without facing the reality that some people cared nothing for the things they did and the people they damaged.

They had discussed this last night, and Serena had been adamant that nobody in this world would knowingly allow a child to die, while Henrik had tried to explain his cynical, probably more realistic, understanding of the situation could not allow him to believe that. It had almost ended in a shouting match but he had backed down to save energy on both their parts.

He didn't want to see Serena cry anymore. He didn't want to see her in pain anymore. When she was told that neither she nor Eleanor were a match for Anya, she had held herself together until they reached the deserted stairwell. When they stood on the top landing, she had burst into broken sobs into his chest, and he couldn't have done anything about it. All he could do was try and hold the broken pieces together until she could do it herself. This was exactly why he always failed in relationships – when the worst happened, he knew he was powerless. He felt so helpless, and he just wanted to ease everybody's pain but knew he couldn't.

He wanted to take all the anguish out of Serena and add it to his own. He wanted to take the confusion and anger out of Eleanor and add it to all he felt already. He wanted to take the cancer out of Anya and put it in himself. He wanted to end all this once and for all, himself the only casualty.

He stepped onto Paediatric Oncology, nodding at the young nurse who currently had a bright red streak through her coal black hair. She changed her hair more than he seemed to change his clothes. She was also extremely good at her job, though, and he was grateful she was the one to look after his daughter.

He strode over to meet Jac, who looked him up and down critically. "You look like hell," she finally informed him.

"Good morning to you too," he snapped.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that," he admitted, alluding to the almost-argument he had had with Serena over her hopeful naïvety. It had left him feeling guilty for snapping at her and unable to sleep worrying about her.

Jac tilted her head to the side slightly and pulled him by the wrist away from the children. "We're going to see Adam Cross," she told him. "Don't worry – we won't be alone with him. His probation officer will be there," she added before he could protest. "I'm so sorry, Henrik."

"I know," he allowed, seeing she was sorry for going around him for the benefit – or agony – of his wife. "I know she made you, Jac. I understand."

"Don't be angry with her," she pleaded, the words reminiscent of her text message. "She'd rather go alone than hurt you."

He gave a curt nod, not trusting himself to speak when he felt the lump in his throat aching. He didn't want to cry and look weak in front of Jac and the children. However, when Jac reached up and pulled him down into a hug, he had to protest, "Don't," because he knew it was going to make him finally break down. She, predictably, ignored him when she heard his voice thick with unshed tears.

"I'll do what I want," she retorted, making him smile through the tears pouring freely down his face while he attempted to exercise control over his breathing. She patted his back gently and added, "You're too strong for your own good."

When he finally gave in and let his breathing fall completely out of control, he felt guilty for being so weak when his daughter and wife needed him. He had cried only once during this ordeal: when the initial diagnosis was given. And Serena had been the most wonderful person he could have asked for in that situation. Kind, understanding and unquestioning. But he saw what that night took out of her and decided he wasn't going to do that to her again. He instead turned the agony inwards and let it eat away at him rather than his family.

Jac's arms were tight around him as he glanced across the ward at his dying child, giggling with her best friend and sharing a set of earphones as they looked at the screen of an iPod Touch. Now he knew why Jac had borrowed Serena's CDs.

"You'll be OK," he heard Jac promise. He noted that she didn't promise anything else, only that he would get through it. It wasn't in Jac's nature to make promises that could not be kept. She released him and smiled sadly as she put her hands on his arms. "I'd better go or Serena will be getting impatient."

"Serena's always impatient," Henrik pointed out with a small smile.

"Don't we all bloody know it!" Jac grinned. She patted his arm lightly and said, "Chin up. We'll be back by about six. Oh, and your CDs are in the blue bag." She gave him a smile and walked off the ward, handbag swinging behind her.

He stepped carefully towards the children, surreptitiously wiping his tears away so they wouldn't see his grief and Anya wouldn't question as to why Daddy was crying. He preferred to see her smile. If it was completely up to him, Anya would do nothing but smile. Serena and Eleanor would never have to cry or hurt again.

He sat down in the chair next to the bed where the girls sat giggling. "What are you watching?" he asked them.

"YouTube," Anya answered. The nurse must have given them the WiFi code, or else Jac had bullied it out of her. Even though motherhood had mellowed her a little, Jac Naylor was still more than capable of using bullying tactics.

He leaned around to see a large dog and assumed it was one of those where the owner made the dog look like it was talking. Something his daughter was sure to find hilarious. The change the appearance of her best friend had made was incredible; she had not smiled so much in six weeks.

He just smiled to himself and pulled out a CD when noticed a yellow sticky note on top of the pile of CDs, stuck to _Rules of Travel_. It read: _"Welcome her to all your fears and trust that she will cope; give her one day of satisfaction for a thousand years of hope; don't turn to dry your eyes and lose your chance to look; 'cause she's got 44 stories: she wants to write them in a book." Read it. Jac._

Confused he opened the bag further and saw a pink book slotted down the side. He took it out and immediately saw Serena's scrawl inside, and realised she had taken to keeping journals again. Jac must have lifted it at some point the other day when she came to get the music.

It was with caution and guilt that he turned the pages, seeing Serena's innermost ramblings. She talked about Anya and Eleanor and Henrik, and with each entry her mindset seemed to get darker and more pessimistic.

He read the latest entry, and it brought him to tears again.

_Henrik's driving himself up the wall. He won't sleep. He won't cry. He won't talk. He's gone back to hurting himself rather than unloading it to me. He can't tell me the truth about how he feels. That's why I can't get him involved with finding Anya's biological father. I feel awful for keeping him in the dark but Henrik hates him too much, and I don't know what he would do to the man if he got hold of him. I'm trying to keep him on the rails and I don't think it would help for him to see the man who attacked us. I can't hurt him more than he already is. It would be cruel to do that to him. _

_ I've asked Jac instead. Someone needs to stop me doing anything stupid. I can't trust myself anymore. I see his face at night through the darkness. I don't want to see it in the harsh light of day as well, but I have to. For Anya. If he refuses, I don't know what I'll do. I don't know what Henrik and Eleanor will do. _

_ I don't know if the family would survive it together. What if it splits us up? What then? What would I do without Henrik? He's my rock. He's my logic. He's my common sense. He's the light that shows me the right path to take. I can't be without him anymore. I can't be without my children or my husband. I love them too much._

Henrik closed the book and put it back in the bag. He dried his eyes with the back of his hand, understanding now why Serena had asked Jac and not him. He knew she was right. _He_ didn't even know what he would have done when faced with Adam Cross, so how could Serena be expected to know?

She didn't know because he never told her the way he felt. He was doing it to protect her, because he knew if he showed her his true desperation it would hurt her, but he saw now that she wanted to help him at any cost; he was just making it impossible for her. Admittedly, being impossible was an unfortunate habit of his, and one Serena had long come to accept, but he had never done it on this scale, because he had never had to protect his wife on this scale.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Anya asked for a drink. He poured both her and Flora a glass of water and smiled to convince them he was alright while he started to fall apart. But to his daughter he was Daddy and he was unbreakable, and he intended her perception of him to remain as such.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here's another chapter that might be too sad, so be warned. Thanks again to everyone who is reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena sat in the passenger seat of Jac's car, snow sheeting down through the night, dancing in the headlights. The sudden change in the weather felt like a mirror image to her.

Cold and dark.

Dangerously hazy.

Impossible to navigate.

A dark void broken only by a source of frigidity and danger.

"I wasn't expecting him to do what we wanted," she heard Jac's voice from what felt like a million miles away. "But I wasn't expecting him to be so rude either. There was no need for that."

Serena did not reply, trying not to let her mind wander to that experience. She had been clinging to the hope that he had an ounce of common decency in him, but obviously not. She was shocked. She was not the prime example of a magnanimous saint herself, but if a child was dying and she knew there was a chance she held the key to their survival, she would not even think of withholding it.

He had been so cold, so uncaring, that she didn't know how he could possibly have so little conscience as to do that to child. Was it her? Was it only Serena who thought that, no matter what happened between her and any other person, an innocent child was not to suffer for it? Was there something wrong with her for thinking that?

When she realised what he was going to do, her blood had run cold. Everything stood still as he killed her daughter.

They drove down the familiar street to her house just as the blizzard was starting to fire up and leave them unable to see barely a hundred feet in front of them. Jac parked the car outside Serena's home and got out, while Serena just sat there, shocked and lost once more.

Jac opened the passenger door and picked up Serena's handbag from the foot well, helping her to her feet. Her knees felt week.

She couldn't move. She couldn't stand.

She took a deep breath and composed herself before she tried to walk into her own home. She didn't want to worry or upset Henrik, but she had an unpleasant feeling that her appearance would do that anyway. She gently shrugged off Jac's support and walked into the house, finally able to make her feet follow the commands from her brain.

She stepped into the living room to find Henrik working on his laptop, music gentle in the background. He immediately closed the laptop and stood up, his hand on her face gently. Did she really look bad enough to warrant the worry in his eyes?

"He said 'no,'" Jac said from behind them, her voice again sounding to Serena like a distant echo. She felt like she her heart had been ripped from her body and her body from her soul. There was nothing left to do but wait for her child to die and hope it was as painless as possible for her little girl. "Well, his actual words were, 'You lot put me in jail. Why would I even think about trying to help you? Fuck off.' And then he walked out without another word."

It twigged in Serena's head now that Henrik knew where they had been and that Jac had told him; she had had a feeling Jac would have had the cynical foresight to warn him she might have been coming home in a rather unfortunate state tonight.

She half-expected Henrik to say 'I told you so' but he held his tongue – for the moment – and pulled her into his arms, where she remembered that she was not alone. She heard Jac say, "I'll leave you to it," and the banging of the door as the complex redhead stepped back out into the perils of winter. It was all as blurry as the vision of the snow out of the windscreen; she couldn't see any distance ahead of her anymore. There was no way forward. There was no way backwards. There was only her and her family rooted to the spot with nowhere left to turn.

She heard the familiar song from 1993 in the background and Henrik's deep voice singing along to it into her hair. "_Take up the hearts you came to heal; put down you dagger and your shield; you need hide nothing now from me_."

She felt compelled to sing back to him, knowing he used music to try and heal her pain. "_I see the essence of a man; I stand before you as a friend; the truth moves through us even when we sleep_."

"_And the wheel_," they sang together, "_goes round, round; and the flame in our souls; it will never burn out; and the wheel goes round, round; and the flame in our souls; it will never burn out; and the wheel, and the wheel goes round_."

They swayed together in time with the familiar rhythm for a few seconds before the CD moved to the next song on the album of confessions, and she accepted he wasn't going to let go of her until she cried it out like her heart was telling her to do so. It was hypocritical of him in the extreme, but he knew what was best for her. That much she was able to accept.

The problem was that she couldn't cry like he wanted her to. She knew he knew the right thing for her to do; she had complete faith in him. But she was yet again too shocked and numb to feel the pain needed to induce tears. She just held onto him, the only constantly reliable thing left to her. He was not perfect, but he was hers and she loved him.

"We need a miracle," Serena murmured into his chest. "It's the only thing left."

He guided her to the sofa and kissed her nose; even that didn't make her smile. She was just _empty_.

His arms wrapped tightly around her; it was like he was holding the shattered pieces together as they started to fall away. He was as silent and as strong as ever, but she could see him breaking apart inside. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry for going behind your back," she explained. She knew he actions had hurt him, even though she was doing her utmost to defend and protect him. It had been wrong to shut him out.

"I know," he replied, kissing her cheek and resting his face against the side of hers. "I know, darling." It wasn't often that he used a pet name with her, although he did it all the time with his daughter, and it set off the dreaded alarm bells, as anything out of the ordinary always did.

"Are you OK?" she asked him, reaching up to put her fingers in his hair. "Are you coping?" When he didn't speak she found she knew the answer, and her own self-absorbed single-mindedness seemed to shatter, and she felt truly close to her husband once more. Eventually she felt him shake his head against hers, and she knew the courage and emotion it took him to admit such a thing.

His tears ran down her face, which made the sharp knife of realisation to run right through her, the agony causing her own tears to mix with his on her cheek. Her fingers rested on the back of his neck in an effort to comfort him. "You shouldn't do this to yourself," she scolded him gently. "You shouldn't bottle it all up."

She felt him kiss her jaw lightly, mumbling, "I don't like to hurt you."

"I'm your wife," she reminded him. "You can tell me _anything_, Henrik. You shouldn't withhold your feelings because you're scared of hurting me."

He placed his hand in her hair and pulled her into his body, seemingly unable to let her go. She realised now that he was in a far worse state than she had thought, and put her own pain to one side so she could help her husband. She pulled herself away from him; he refused to take his hands off her. "Tell me," she ordered him, wiping away his bitter tears.

He stared her in the eyes for only a moment, and opened his mouth to try and speak but nothing came out. He tried this a few times but remained silenced, unable to force the words out.

"Henrik."

"I'm not strong enough anymore," he finally admitted. "My daughter..." he trailed away for a second when the last word came out in little more than a hoarse crackle. "My daughter is dying...my daughter is _dying_ and I can't help her. I can't save my own daughter. And it's my fault. She's going to die and it's my fault because I can't help her."

She stroked his face lightly with her fingertips. She was being tender with him while she wanted nothing more than to shake him and tell him not to be so stupid, that nothing he did could possibly have caused this predicament. "You listen to me," she told him. "This is _not_ your fault. You did not cause this."

"But-"

"No buts," she reinforced. "This is nobody's fault."

"But-"

"Shut _up_," she half-shouted at him to try and get it through his thick skull that absolutely no-one, let alone his wife, blamed him for all of this. "The fact Anya is sick is not your fault. The fact none of us can help her is not your fault. _None_ of this is your fault!"

He nodded once, but she saw him continue to struggle. He was incapable of exonerating himself. She knew that much. It just meant she had to do it for him. She pressed a kiss into his lips, his hot tears still pouring without a break in the flow.

The pain she put to one side now bubbled to the surface, the searing cold burning every inch of her inside and out. He moved to kiss her jaw as he broke through the layers of ice within her. She put her hands on his waist and scrambled haphazardly across him as he kissed her throat, looking for the same relief she was. She was, as the old song so beautifully put it, looking for a corner to back her heart into.

That heart was broken, the pieces strewn across a house and a hospital with every memory they had made, every ghost they had created. Tonight, here, as they built a new ghost together, she could not hold herself together; it was only when Henrik placed his hand over her broken heart that she burst into tears, grief, love and pain falling over her like a wave. She fell into his chest as the floodgates opened, letting a whole new level of agony break free.

She realised only now that the battle was over. The fight was lost. Chemo didn't work. Nobody could safely donate bone marrow. What else was there to do?

"Alright," he whispered. "I knew this would happen the second you walked in the door." She inwardly praised him for knowing her so well and buried her face into his chest, falling away from him to the side. He put one arm carefully around her neck, his hand in her hair, and the other arm around her waist; he held her tightly into his side.

Serena was well and truly lost. How was she meant to deal with the death of her child when it came if she couldn't even deal with the now very real idea of it?

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: HELLO. It's half past two and I'm still awake. Oh well. This is the first bit of hope so far, and apparently this is actually possible, though rare. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews :)**

**Sarah x**

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Jonny heard Jac open and close the door. He could hear he exhaustion in even the way she seemed to be dragging her feet. That could only mean one thing. "No luck?" he asked her as she sat down next to him.

He brushed the snow out of her hair as she repeated, "No luck."

He stayed in his silence, thinking about the last hope. Anya's mother and half-sister were did not match. Anya's biological father refused to even be tested. He didn't want to let Jac in on his theory. It was so absurd, so far-fetched, the chances of success so slim, that he didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. It had been a mere gut instinct. It had been a memory of one of his granny's lectures about the Jacobites and treachery.

But he had to tell her.

"What's Serena's name?" he asked Jac, deciding that was the best place to start, since it was the total basis of his theory.

"Serena Hanssen."

"Before that."

"Serena Campbell."

"No, no," he sighed. "Before she married Edward. Before she married anyone."

Jac narrowed her eyes at him and answered, "Serena McKinnie."

"Jac," he sighed. "What if I was to tell you there was one last chance? A tiny chance, mind, but a chance."

"What?" He didn't immediately answer, still cautious of getting anyone's hopes up. "Jonny, what?!" she demanded, her tone impatient and urgent.

"When I was wee," he began, recalling sitting in his granny's living room. "When I was a wee boy, my granny used to tell me about Scottish history. Serena's a McKinnon, isn't she?"

"McKinnie."

"Same clan," he acknowledged. "Same family. The Maconies are part of Clan Cameron."

Jac sighed and said, "Jonny, what the bloody hell are you on about?!"

"In the olden days, the McKinnons fell out with the Campbells, as did half of Scotland after they went to Glencoe and massacred the McDonalds and sided with the English," he recounted. "The Camerons befriended the McKinnons eventually. In those days you could have made a soap opera of every day life. Everyone was shagging each other and sticking knives in each other's backs – literally."

"And this help Anya, does it?" Jac raised her eyebrow at him. "The fact the Scottish couldn't keep it under their kilts helps Anya Hanssen?"

"Yeah, it might actually!" Jonny protested loudly. "It's a long shot, I know, but half of the West Highlands were related either through blood, marriage or both. There were arranged marriages left, right and centre. There were deals between clans for livestock, land, access, power and leverage. It was a power game, and the men had no problems marrying their daughters off to other clans, and that included mine and Serena's. There are whole villages in the Highlands of Scotland where most of the natives are still linked through blood or marriage. If it's blood that linked the Maconie sept to the McKinnie sept, then it might be what saves Anya!"

Jac looked unimpressed by his reasoning, but he _knew_ he had a point. "You can't be serious," she retorted. "Have you been drinking while I was out?"

Jonny rolled his eyes at her, and proceeded to argue his point. "Look, if Serena and I are related even distantly through blood, there _is_ a chance either Flora or I could match Anya!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Jac argued. "We can't tell them that. Serena's going to clutch at any straw handed to her and we can't get her hopes up. And Henrik's about to break if he hasn't already. No, Jonny."

He saw her point, and recalled Henrik's drained face as he had watched Darwin from the lift. Jonny had never seen the man seem so small. He had been pale and tired, looking like he hadn't slept in far too long. Jac was right – he was already broken. He was just trying to hide it. His mask was failing though, and Jonny could see the mess that lay behind it.

"We don't tell them."

"Bloody hell, Jonny! _No_!" she shouted at him. Startled but not surprised by her reaction, he sat up straighter. "We can't go behind their backs."

"You can't have it both ways, Jac."

She stared at him for a moment, her shining blue eyes drilling into his without relent. He tried to decipher the workings of her mind but she was hiding it all too well. "So what you're saying is that you might be cordially related to Serena," she surmised. "It's far-fetched, Jonny. It sounds ridiculous. It's sheer optimism, and it isn't even realistic."

"At least let me and Flora get a blood test," he begged, only wanting to know if he had the genetics to save a child.

"You can do what you want," Jac allowed, "but Flora is not getting involved in this."

"Even if it's her who can save Anya?"

"The answer's still 'no.'"

"She would hate you," Jonny pointed out. "When she's older and you have to explain why she went to her best friend's funeral while she was still in primary school, she would hate you."

"Don't," Jac retorted. "Don't use that one on me."

"But it's true!" he protested loudly, knowing Flora was playing Sonic the Hedgehog upstairs. "She's so much like you. You know she would hate you when she's old enough to understand what's happened."

Jac was silenced, and he watched her contemplate the idea. Jonny knew that the chance was there – history was the one thing he trusted without any doubts. It had dawned on him last night, thinking about those long nights sitting in front of the fire on that old worn rug with his sisters, listening to his grandmother explain the ins and outs of everything that happened between the Camerons and all the other clans.

"How sure are you?"

That question alone was testament to the fact Jac could be won over on this. Even she could not condemn a child to certain death until the very last avenue had been ventured down. She was a doctor and a mother herself, and he knew she could not possibly subject Serena and Henrik to such tragedy until she knew there was no way out of it. She was cold, but she was not _that_ cold.

"About fifty-fifty," he admitted that he was not totally sure about it. "I just have this...gut instinct," he tried to explain the drive behind his theories. "There are cases where other families are linked right back to the Jacobites and all that stuff."

Jac sighed and put her hands over her face. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen her actually struggle to come to a decision. She was normally decisive and certain, but here he saw her battle with her conscience and the two arguments going on in her head. "It would be painful for her to donate," Jac murmured, already assuming that Flora was a match. "You _know_ how painful it would be."

Jonny kept silent, letting Jac work it out in her own mind. She was, after all, her own woman, and if she was to make a decision she would make it for herself. The more he tried to force her, the more she was going to dig her heels in. He watched her face transform from sheer scepticism to hopeful doubt.

She still did not look totally convinced, but he could see that she had made a decision, however reluctant it was.

"OK," she huffed. "If Flora is happy with it. Only if _I_ think she's happy with it."

His spirits lifted when he realised they were both going to get at least tested, because Flora was always going to do anything for Anya. "Gimme the phone," he said to Jac.

"No, we can't tell them!" Jac shot him down. "How do you think they'll feel if we give them this tiny bit of hope and you're proved wrong?" He had to agree with her; he had seen for himself how fragile in particular Serena was, and Henrik was in nowhere near the half-decent state he claimed in public to be.

That idea was out the window then. Jonny wasn't willing to do that to them; in the event of him being wrong, it was tantamount to torture. Serena wasn't able to take being led on like that. It would have been the blow that broke Henrik.

"Anya's consultant owes me a favour," Jac admitted. "Saved his arse from an inspector last year when he was in the store room with a nurse. I'll see if he'll test you on the quiet."

"That's so wrong," Jonny answered her guiltily. He hated to go around Henrik and Serena like this but he didn't want to hurt them any more than they already were. Accepting it was the only way, he sighed, "I'll go and get Flora."

He stood up and felt a sense of guilt and wrongdoing creep up on him, despite the fact he was only doing his utmost to protect Anya, Henrik and Serena. If there was some success and they were a match and they had to find out Jac and Jonny had gone behind their backs...well, he could deal with them if it saved Anya.

"Flora!" he called up to his daughter. "Come downstairs, darlin'!" He heard her feet on the floor above as she came out of her room. She ran down the stairs and straight into his arms; he lifted her up and took her back through to the living room and her mother. The girl sat between her parents with a smile.

Her first question was one Jonny expected - "Is Anya OK?"

"She's not changed," Jac allowed. Jonny knew she was always cautious when touching upon the subject of Anya with Flora, careful not to put any false hope in her head.

"Flora," Jonny began, drawing in his daughter's attention. "What if we were to tell you there's a tiny chance you could help Anya, but it would be really sore?"

Predictably, mirroring her mother's steely determination and her father's generosity, she replied, "Don't care if it's sore. I wanna help her."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Jac asked. "When Daddy says it'll be sore, he means you get a blood test – a needle – and if you and Anya match, they take your bone marrow. It's horrible."

Flora would not need to hear any more. She had clearly grasped the concept: there was a tiny chance she could help Anya and, if it was really there, it would be very painful. Jonny watched his daughter contemplated this to herself for a little while before she eventually asserted, "I can hurt for a little while."

Jonny shared a look with Jac, silently agreeing that Flora was capable of handling this; durability and resilience was a way of life she had been picking up from Jac since she was born. "OK," Jac sighed. "Well, you're very brave," she added, kissing Flora's startlingly red hair, and Jonny felt a small ray of hope burning away the grey clouds surrounding all involved in this situation.

"Bath time," Jonny announced, taking Flora's hand as Jac picked up the house phone.

"I'm going to phone Anya's consultant and remind him I'm the reason he still has a job," she explained, her smirk rather wicked as she proceeded to assert her superiority as he knew she loved to do. And, oh, how she excelled at it.

He grinned at the foot of the stairs and answered her, "Aye, you do that." He heard her laugh before she started to speak to the consultant, making her intentions clear from the off – she wanted her daughter and fiancé tested to donate bone marrow to Anya, and Henrik and Serena Hanssen were not to know about it unless there was a match. It was against the rules. It was wrong. It was necessary.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: After torturing them, this is Serena and Henrik's much-needed break :) Thanks as always to everyone reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena stood on Darwin, surveying the mess around her. Two weeks had passed since Adam Cross had effectively killed Anya when he took away the only option left to them. She was stressed already; the last thing she needed was half the nurses snowed in and a patient kicking off at Jonny Maconie – one of only four nurses working Darwin today.

Having no patience left in her, and it being her job, she strode over to Jonny and his patient, who was almost as tall as Henrik but far better built and looked like he could flatten Jonny with one punch.

"You!" she shouted above him. The patient turned to her and she continued, "Get back into bed or I _will_ call security." He gave her a challenging stare. "Don't test me," she warned. "I am not in the mood to take any prisoners."

Something about Serena fazed him where Jac and Jonny could not, and he reluctantly got back into bed. "Thanks, Mrs. Hanssen," Jonny said, as formal as he always was with her and Henrik at work.

"No problem," she smiled, and the effort that one smile took her was enormous. It almost hurt her face.

She was vaguely aware of a phone ringing behind her, and it was Jac who answered. "Jac Naylor," she said curtly as she swiped away at her iPad impatiently. She suddenly froze – she almost dropped the iPad – a look of delighted disbelief on her face. "Are you sure?" she demanded. "OK. Thank you. Bye." She hung up the phone. "Oi! Maconie!" she called Jonny over.

He was about to put in a cannula but he obviously saw that whatever Jac wanted was important. "Um," he said, looking around for another nurse but finding none. "Mrs. Hanssen, would you..."

Serena sighed and went to take over as he practically ran across the ward to Jac, knowing that Jac wouldn't interrupt him without good cause. She had a feeling they were expecting something recently; both had been slightly on edge and there had been conversations deliberately hushed so Serena was left unable to h]ear what was going on. She had no doubt that the couple were hiding something.

She focussed on the patient. Well, she tried to. She was distracted when Jonny lifted Jac up in his arms, obviously excited about something. She envied their happiness. In that moment, she envied them and she felt hopelessly selfish for it. They now had everything. They had a thriving relationship and a healthy, happy child. Both things Serena's life lacked as Anya grew sicker and Henrik grew more distant.

She finished up with the patient, patting the young woman's arm lightly, before wandering up to Jac and Jonny. "What are you two grinning about?" she asked. They looked at each other, and she was uncomfortable to realise that whatever it was involved her.

Jac looked around for her registrar and shouted across to him, "Jackson, watch the ward for a while, would you?" The blonde man gave her a nod and a smile from across the ward; Jac and Jonny took an arm each of Serena's, guiding her off Darwin to the stairs.

"What are you-"

"We'll explain in a minute," Jonny cut through her. They went down the stairs to the fifth floor, to Henrik's office. Jac didn't even knock on the door before she barged in.

"Miss Naylor!" Henrik said, sounding a little startled.

She smiled and took Terrence Cunningham by the arm, taking him out of the office. "Your meeting will have to wait. Mr. Hanssen has more important things to discuss," she told him, before she added with a sweet smile, "Reschedule." She shut the door behind Cunningham before he could even open his mouth, leaving Henrik positively shocked at he over-excited behaviour, and Serena wondering what on Earth was going on. What had them so happy? And what did it have to do with her and Henrik?!

Serena spun on her heel to see her husband's expression of confusion and annoyance at Jac's sudden childish behaviour. She looked quite like the cat who got the cream. Her grin was so infectious that – had Serena had a decent night's sleep in the past month and was actually capable of really smiling – she probably would have been grinning along with her.

"Right," Jonny announced. "We've got some news. Do you want the good or the bad news first?"

Serena raised her eyebrow at Henrik and they replied in unison, "Bad."

"The bad news is we kind of went behind your back a little bit," Jac admitted. "We didn't want to get your hopes up in case we were wrong. Daniel Johnson owed me a favour and I collected."

"Daniel Johnson," Henrik echoed. "Anya's consultant."

"Yeah," Jonny replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Serena was very suspicious of this now it concerned her daughter, her consultant, and Jac. Serena knew Jac had saved Johnson's arse last inspection day, when he had almost been caught in a store room with a nurse. Jac had run ahead of the inspectors to the room she had seen them slip into.

"OK," Serena sighed, accepting Jac and Jonny had gone around her, but realising that, as always, they had their reasons. They rarely did anything without a reason and a good intention – one of the better traits motherhood had instilled in the once devious Jac, although it seemed she was still capable of being devious for the right reasons. "The good news better be pretty bloody good to negate that," she warned sternly.

Jac and Jonny looked at each other with ill-disguised grins. They looked a bit like over-excited children, itching to let some amazing revelation to be known. "We have a willing bone marrow donor for Anya," Jac said. "Perfect match."

Serena was stunned. She was only just beginning to accept that her daughter was dying...how could this be? "If this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny," she retorted, simply unable to believe them after everything so far had gone so badly wrong.

"Are you serious?" Henrik asked from beside her; she looked around to find him shell-shocked.

Jonny laughed. "I know I'm a wind-up merchant but I wouldn't joke about this," he said.

"Who?" Serena managed to force out.

"Flora," Jac replied. "We've explained that it'll hurt but it'll stop Anya dying, and we're fine with it. We know the risks involved."

Serena knew Jac well enough to know that this decision was against her better judgement but she was a clinician; when it boiled down to it, she knew the risks, and they were minimal. No procedure, as they told patients every day, was without risk. "Are you sure about this?" Henrik asked what Serena was too shocked to utter. She was too shocked to say anything at all.

"Yes," Jonny replied.

"How did you come up with all this?" Serena heard her husband ask, still unable to speak or even move. She couldn't understand how they had come upon the idea that any of them could be a match for Anya; they had no family ties that she knew of.

"History," said Jonny. "I'm effectively a Cameron. You're effectively a McKinnon."

"Yeah, turns out Jonny's family and Serena's family were at it," Jac supplied, making Jonny grin even wider at the thought of their ancestors being less than scrupulous.

"_My_ family?" Serena managed to demand.

"Whole load of Scottish history stuff," Jac dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Double-Dutch to me but Jonny managed to work out that in the old days his family and yours must have made some sort of deal involving arranged marriage, or else that there were affairs going on all over the place."

"So..." Serena spluttered out. "So _we're_ related?!" She couldn't believe this. After all this heartache, the key lay in Scottish history. She had known she had some sort of link to Scotland – her name told her that much – but never had she thought for even a moment that it could have saved her child.

"Yep," Jonny assured her. "I was a match, too, but Flora's a better match. There's more chance of success if Flora donates."

It had barely sunk in when Serena truly smiled for the first time in months. She didn't care that Jac and Jonny had lied to her, or that they had effectively blackmailed a consultant. She didn't care that they had broken every rule they possibly could have. She could only step forward and pull Jac into a bone-crushing cuddle, doing the same thing to Jonny. "You have no idea..." she said, unable to find the words to thank them.

Before she knew it, Henrik was next to her, kissing Jac's cheek and being given what Jonny would have called a 'man hug.' He was silent, and she could see he too was struggling to absorb the idea that Anya could actually survive this. She felt Henrik's arms snake around her from behind. "This must be a wee bit of a shock," Jonny said, "so we'll leave you to get your heads around it."

"Thank you," Henrik finally spoke. "Thank you so much."

They smiled and left Serena in Henrik's arms, barely able to believe that their lives had been transformed in five minutes. She leaned her head back into his chest and tried to, as Jonny had basically instructed them, get her head around all this. She could hardly make heads nor tails of it all. It was mad. Utterly mad.

Henrik leaned down, his cheek against her head. "I can't believe it," he muttered.

"I don't even know what went on all those centuries ago," Serena admitted quietly. "Jonny worked it out. _Jonny_, of all the people in the world, worked out we're related." She couldn't see how he knew that. He must have been brought up knowing the ins and outs of all that happened between the clans in Scotland. She made a note to herself to ask him exactly how he figured it out when she was in a fit state to understand it all.

She turned in Henrik's arms and hugged him, her face breaking into a tearful smile of relief. It was the first good news they'd had concerning Anya, and it only came about because Jonny Maconie and Jac Naylor had the guts and courage to go behind her and Henrik's backs. She felt slightly guilty that she hadn't thought of it herself. It should have been her who had the intelligence and open mind to think about such a wild possibility.

But Jonny had done it for her, and for that she was eternally grateful. There was a spirit in her again; she was no longer the empty shell of the walking dead. She was hopeful.

She looked up into her husband's eyes and found him cautiously optimistic for the first time in so long. His eyes were no longer dull and tired, but shining with something that wasn't tears of sadness and desperation. She put her hand on the back of his head, her fingers in his hair, and pulled him into a tight cuddle.

His arms were tight around her body, and she knew her husband well enough to know he was truly lost for words, an achievement in itself. She felt him kiss the crook of her neck lightly, bringing warmth to her now the ice was melting. She tried to remind herself that all this was not yet over, that there was still a long way to go, but at the moment, nothing was going to burst the bubble she and Henrik were floating around in just now.

When he broke the loving silence between them, it was the first joke he cracked since Anya had first taken ill: "That was worth kicking Cunningham out for."

She laughed into his body, elated.

"Only Jac Naylor," she replied.

His low chuckle echoed through the stillness around them. She smiled and kissed him, for once not looking for any distraction or any relief, no longer looking for the corner they needed to back their hearts into.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello again! This might be the last update until the weekend - my best friend is coming down to stay for a few days :) thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews this!**

**Sarah x**

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"Do you ever think about how far we've come?" Serena asked, using Henrik's leg as a pillow as she lay on the sofa with her legs hanging over the arm. "Do you remember what we were like seven years ago?"

"Oh, yes," he replied with that familiar smirk. "You would have quite happily murdered me." She laughed but was unable to deny her frustrations with Henrik in the first year they had known each other. It felt odd to laugh now, but the news earlier had brought life back to her, and with that had returned her ability to giggle like a girl.

"I'm sure that went both ways," she reminded him. She was starting to open her mind a little after having it closed, silent and dark for so long. "Do you ever wonder what Fredrick is like?" she asked cautiously. He tensed as he always did when she mentioned his son, which was why she had learned not to approach it.

"No."

He was lying. She could tell by the frigid expression on his face. "And you don't think he would want to know he has a father and a step-mother?" she demanded gently. "Doesn't nearly losing Anya make you...just want to know both your children?"

He did not answer, and she hadn't really expected him to; she had just wanted him to know she would have fully supported him if he had wanted to contact his son. Henrik looked at his watch and stood up, gently sitting her upright, and went through to the kitchen, returning with the car keys and her coat, scarf, hat and gloves. "Where are we going?" she asked him, taking her red coat from him and pulling it on He said nothing but she followed him anyway. The sky was still light, though barely – it was only half past four; they had bunked off work early when it was clear every ward, for once, was under control.

They drove and drove further into the countryside until Serena became worried. "Henrik, we can't go too far in case Anya gets any worse!"

"She's as bad as she's going to get, Serena," he told her harshly. "If she was any worse, she'd be dead already. And besides, Jac and Jonny have volunteered to give us a night free of responsibility." Serena's head snapped around at this. "Jac's idea. She thinks we should take a night to act like teenagers again, so she informed Paediatric Oncology that she's effectively next of kin just for tonight."

Serena snorted. "Acting like a teenager? Getting pissed, crying into my pillow over some boy and practically crawling into school on Monday morning with the world's worst hangover? Yeah, I don't think so somehow, darling."

He stopped at an old-looking hotel in the next town an hour after they left Holby, the snow glittering under the moonlight. Henrik got out of the car and returned to her side holding an overnight bag. "Normally we would have been here at four but the cleaners were delayed by the snow in getting to work."

"You planned this?!" she demanded.

"If by 'plan' you mean I hastily booked the nearest good hotel I could at midday then yes, I planned it," he smiled softly at her. Henrik was not one for unpremeditated romantic gestures; he preferred to let his feelings be known in small ways, so this was a big surprise to her, though for once a pleasant one. She was glad to see him unfazed by the mention of Fredrick; he usually distanced himself for a little while but tonight he seemed to be doing the opposite.

"We are going to relax," he ordered her in an ironically stern fashion, his free arm around her shoulders. She grinned devilishly at him and bent down, rolling snow in her gloved hands. It didn't take him long to catch on, as he attempted to hide behind a car, but he was far too tall. She threw a snowball at him, hitting him square in the chest. "Don't!" he protested, brushing snow off his chest.

"Or what?" she raised an eyebrow at him across the dimly lit car park from the snow laden verge she stood on. He shook his head in surrender, coming to her side. She gave an involuntary squeal when a sudden iciness hit the back of her neck and trickled down her back. "You'll pay for that," she warned.

He leaned down and she felt his mouth pressed against her throat, making her giggle from the insane high she was currently on. "I know," he whispered.

"You're a cheeky old sod!"

"You love me for it," he said as he linked her arm in his. She couldn't deny the truth in his statement.

The knot in the pit of her stomach was loosening, the tension and anxiety starting to fall from her body. Of course, she was still worried about Anya, but she was trying to be optimistic and not let the weight of anxiety drag her down when Henrik was doing his best to hold her up.

Before she knew it, Henrik was unlocking the room door and placing the bag on the bed. She took in her surroundings slowly; it was an old room, as she had suspected from the outside of the hotel and the reception and lobby downstairs, with plain yet elegant furnishings and modernised by a plasma television hanging on the wall. She threw herself on the bed and grabbed the remote before Henrik could.

"My stomach thinks my throat's been cut," she grumbled, only just realising she hadn't eaten since breakfast, having worked through lunch to ensure they could get off work at three. She diverted her gaze away from the news to see Henrik rooting around in the bag for something unknown to her, since she hadn't packed the damn thing. His attempt at normality was far from normal, and it was starting to unnerve her slightly. Bored already by the news, she started to sing to herself while she got up to explore the room further.

"_You know the truth about you, babe; where you fall and where you stand_," she sang, watching Henrik from the bathroom door, realising why that song had suddenly come to mind as she watched his insanity on display. "_Where your walls still come between us; where you take it like a man_." She sighed and said, "What are you even looking for?"

"Your dress," he admitted. "I was going to take you to dinner across the road but I can't find your dress."

Serena just laughed. "You've obviously never tried to walk in a dress and heels in the snow and ice, have you?"

He looked up with an amused expression. "No matter," he replied, giving up his hopeless search. "You don't need a fancy dress to be the picture of beauty," he said, his arms wrapping around her waist. He kissed her and her breath caught in her throat. Was she just falling in love with him all over again? Was that what the fluttering in her stomach was? Her falling for him the way they should have done in the first place, rather than the way they had been forced together by trauma and circumstance?

"I've got...a better...idea," she whispered between kisses. He pulled back from her with a questioning look. "We go downstairs to the dining room and eat whatever they're serving. No stupid dress. No stupid pretentious waiter in a stupid pretentious suit with a stupid pretentious accent. No stupid horrible food."

He smiled and took her hand, leaving the television on and the bag on the floor where he had dumped it in frustration. She hadn't seen him this happy in months; part of her suspected it was all a big lie to appease her concerns that he was losing the plot slightly. If anything, she was even more worried now. This was totally out of his character to do this. He was wearing a mask again, and she was waiting for it to slip.

They sat in the dining room to find it was a help-yourself-buffet, which was probably just as well since she was about to pass out from hunger. Standing spooning mashed potato onto her plate, she glanced up at her husband. He was sinking fast. She thought maybe it was exhaustion but there was something else in his eyes that she didn't like. He hated himself. There it was, clear as day, written all over his face.

She reached over for his hand and touched it lightly. "I love you," she reminded him.

He nodded and replied, "I love you."

He kissed her hair as he passed, leaving her to wonder what was going on in that screwed up mind of his. This was why they were the perfect mismatch. They were both screwed up, their minds making and breaking them simultaneously. It was the most confusing experience in the world, and she knew Henrik knew what it felt like too.

She sat down opposite him. To anyone else he would have looked like he was perfectly fine, enjoying himself, even. But Serena had learned to read him a long time ago. "Henrik, what's wrong?" she sighed.

"There's nothing wrong," he replied.

"There is. I can see it in your eyes."

He looked into his plate, presumably so as not to look at her and give her any more ammunition as he finally admitted he was in pain, even when they light at the end of the tunnel was in sight. "I'm useless."

"Don't be bloody ridiculous," she immediately retorted. "You're a brilliant dad. The best husband I could have asked for. A talented surgeon."

"It's not much help when you have two children, one of whom doesn't even know you and one who isn't biologically related to you so when she's dying you can't help." He looked up to meet Serena's steely glare. "I don't love Anya any less for that fact. She's still my daughter. I just hate that I'm so useless. Sitting here like a spare part while everyone around me – Jac and Jonny, of all people – is scrambling over themselves to save her."

She sat there for a moment, stunned. It was the most honest thing to have come out of his mouth since Anya was taken into hospital. They ate in silence as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. He didn't hate Anya. He didn't hate Serena. He didn't hate Eleanor. He didn't hate Jac, Jonny and Flora. All that hatred in his face was being driven inwards while she sat there and had to watch it destroy him. But what could she do? Henrik never listened to reason when it came to his extreme but well-disguised emotions.

Walking down the hallway to their room, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist to stop him. "If you're so useless, how come I'm still here?" she challenged his mindset. Confrontation, she had learned, was the only way to snap him out of it when he got like this.

"Excuse me?" he asked her, genuinely confused.

"Do you really think I would still be standing if I hadn't had you by my side?" He couldn't answer, and she knew he knew he was the bedrock of her courage. "Exactly. You stopped me going insane and, believe me, there have been times I was dangerously close to it. You took on _my_ child to be yours. You treat Eleanor as if she was yours. You piece me back together every time I rip myself apart. I would get a dictionary, if I were you, and look up the word 'useless,'" she finished.

The assault on his convictions had moved him; his eyes were shining with tears. "Come here, you daft man," she shook her head at him, pulling him into a kiss, drawing all the pain out of him. She realised just how much he needed her when he showed little self-restraint, backing her into the wall of the deserted hallway, pressed up against her.

She moaned softly into his mouth as his hand fell onto her chest, undoing the top few buttons of her shirt, his hand flat against her heart. What he gained from doing that, she would never understand, but he was always doing it. It was almost like he was checking she was still alive.

She fumbled in his pocket for the room key and unlocked the door, gasping in surprise as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, kicking the door shut with little care behind him. He leaned over her and kissed her again. He muttered something to her that shocked her – "I need you."

In seven years, he had never said that aloud. She kissed him urgently, trying and failing to ignore how broken her husband actually was, not just by the present but by the past as well. He fell on top of her, kissing her collar bone lightly, the weight of him making her eternally grateful he was still here, with her, making her life bearable. It was only when his hands travelled underneath her shirt to rest against her chest again, to feel her heartbeat again, that she realised why he did it: he was checking it against his, making sure _he_ was still alive.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: You'll probably all hate me by the end of this chapter so I apologise in advance. Thank you, as always, to every person who reads and reviews - it's always much appreciated!**

**Sarah x**

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Henrik woke with a start and glanced at the screen of his phone – no messages or missed calls, and it was after four in the morning. With a sigh he turned over to see if Serena had finally managed to sleep more than four hours for once; she was out of it completely. Her pale arm was hanging over the top of the blanket. He pressed the back of his hand onto her moonlit skin to find it cold to the touch and so gently put it under the duvet, pulling the covers up to her chin.

He tried to remember how he went from being the pillar of solidity to almost crying in his wife's arms, but it was mostly just a dark blur of pain. He hadn't meant to let it all go like he had done, but he had been stupid to believe he could completely disguise it from her. She saw through him when it was needed.

Serena stirred. "Henrik?" she murmured.

"Yes?" he replied. She was obviously not conscious – she didn't answer him. She started to become restless, and he realised quite suddenly that she was dreaming. He hoped it was not one of her debilitating nightmares. It was impossible to wake her and when she eventually did wake up she was always a quivering wreck.

It quickly became apparent that, whatever it was, her dream wasn't pleasant and he tried in vain to wake her. "Serena," he said gently, not really expecting to get anything coherent in response. From experience she always dealt with it better when she was close to him so he put his arms around her soft body, his chin resting on the top of her head. There was nothing he could do but wait until it stopped.

He had become accustomed to the occurrence, if not the effects, of her nightmares. The severity varied. There were nights she had just about screamed the house down in her sleep, scared to death of whatever was haunting her sleep. She never spoke of what she dreamt, but he realised that a lot of it was probably to do with the fact that the night she was raped was still a blank her mind was trying to fill in, giving her probably fictional horrors in her sleep.

It was nights like these that he was given a blunt reminder that his wife was still trying to fit the pieces of herself back into the right places, and the crying and the screaming reminded his the pain it caused her when she tried to force the pieces together the wrong way. In sleep she was uninhibited, her mind not functioning enough for her to hold anything back. It was the way he had come to measure how much pain she was in. If she screamed, she was in agony. If she actually cried like she was doing now, it was beyond agony. Lately the dreams produced more tears than noise.

Before he could do anything to stop it, she was crying into his chest, still asleep, while he just held her tight into his body. Maybe this was his use in life. If he could not help his children then he could at least hold the fractured pieces of his wife together. Was she exaggerating last night when she had said she would not have still been standing without him? Had she actually been so damaged that she hadn't been able to see a way that she could have lived while she was dragged through hell and back?

He wondered whether, had he not resolved to help Serena, whether Anya and Eleanor would still have a mother now. He had thought she was doing well all these years but, unknown to him until now, she was depending on him. She trembled in his arms; he should have known. He should have known that when she went quiet it was because she was barely coping.

"Henrik...where are you?" she whispered.

"I'm here," he answered her, though he doubted she heard him. He kissed her hair and repeated, barely hearing himself, "I'm here."

One of her arms moved until it was tight around his waist, unconsciously pulling herself into the safety of his arms. He did not attempt to wake her – there was no point. It never worked and it seemed to cause her more distress to be woken by force. He waited for an ear-splitting scream that never came; instead she continued to shake and cry with no control over what her unconscious but overrun mind commanded her body to do.

He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. Sleep was meant to be peaceful, but her face was contorted in anguish. "I love you," he told her gently. He always found it easier to say these things while she slept. There was some security in knowing that she probably couldn't hear him, and that if she did hear him she would write it off as a dream. "When Jac gave me your diary and I read it...I can't see why you didn't just tell me how you've been feeling. I would have understood. I would have done all I could to help you. You shouldn't have to be afraid of hurting me just because I'm weak."

"Henrik..." she whimpered.

"Shh," he hushed her gently.

"Henrik," she said more urgently. "Henrik!" She startled in his arms and he knew then she was awake. "You're alive," she breathed, and he felt her relax a little.

"Of course I'm alive," he replied, slightly amused by her words but still a bit anxious about what exactly she had dreamt. He knew she was not going to tell him – she never did – but he could tell that whatever it was had left her shaken.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise," he said to her. "Don't apologise, darling." He could feel her bury her face into his chest. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, thinking back to last night. He had pretty much fallen apart on her. He had always tried to make sure she never had to carry more than she could hold, and he had burdened his own issues onto her already overladen shoulders. "If anything, I should be apologising to you. I shouldn't have told what I did."

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "Don't you ever say that again. It's about time you started telling me these things. How can I help if you don't tell me?"

He smiled to himself and squeezed her tight.

A familiar ringtone shattered the silence. "Hello?" Henrik answered.

"Henrik, you'd better get back here," Jac Naylor was saying urgently. "Anya's contracted a lung infection." Immediately Henrik sat bolt upright. "They've had to put her on a ventilator."

He got out of bed and picked up his trousers. "We'll be back in about an hour or so."

"OK," Jac replied. She sounded absolutely exhausted. "Jonny's with her just now. Sacha's looking after Flora so we'll both be here when you get to the hospital."

"Thank you," he said, hanging up the phone. He hadn't had to tell Serena to get up – she was already half-dressed. They dressed in silence before hastily packing their bag and checking out of the hotel.

It was only when Henrik was driving out of the car park that Serena finally managed to ask, "What's happened?"

"Anya's contracted a lung infection," he repeated Jac word for word. "They've had to put her on a ventilator," he added, and the last word caught in his throat, making his stomach turn slightly as he was assaulted internally by dread and fear for his daughter. He heard Serena choke quietly and instinctively reached over and squeezed her leg lightly.

"Our daughter...is on a ventilator," Serena whispered; Henrik knew to say it aloud was how she made sense of it, a method he believed Jonny had taught her. "We shouldn't have come out here."

"It would have happened whether we were there or not," he reminded her fairly.

"I know," she sighed. "I know."

It was still dark and Henrik was going too fast for the road conditions. He had to consciously remind himself to take the pressure off the throttle, reminding himself that Anya's parents were no good to her dead. He tried to be optimistic but there was nothing left to be optimistic for; what if Anya made no kind of recovery from the infection? What if she was actually too sick for Flora to save her.

He hadn't even cut the engine when Serena jumped out, pulling her coat tightly around her as the thick blizzard swirled around her. The glow of the street lights around them brought the fear in her face out; she looked positively terrified. As soon as he was within reaching distance of her, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building, legging it to try and get to Anya marginally faster.

They stumbled, out of breath, onto Paediatric Oncology and Henrik could see Jac waiting for them. "She's in Intensive Care while they get her lungs into better shape," the redhead explained. "It's set her back. They have to wait until she recovers from this before they can transplant the bone marrow. Hopefully, with the right medication, it won't too long but she's really in a bad way."

Henrik sighed when he heard what he expected to. Part of him had hoped Jac would have told them it was nothing too bad, that she was going to be OK, but the realistic part of him knew that Anya having a lung infection with her immune system so weak was serious.

The trip up to ITU seemed to take forever and a day, each step dragging in quarter-time. He just wanted to hold his little girl's hand and tell her she was going to be OK, even though he didn't know if it was true and she was unconscious anyway. Even running up the stairs took a lifetime to complete before they were standing outside ITU, his shaking fingers pressing in the code he used so often and thought nothing of until now.

From the door he looked over to see Jonny sitting next to a bed where a tiny figure lay swamped in white sheets, fragile and helpless as a machine did most of her breathing for her. Her dark hair lay stark against the white pillow and her pallid face. It was not the same girl Henrik remembered singing and dancing with. This girl was a ghost of his daughter, broken and weakened by a disease. He was her father and he could do absolutely nothing to help her.

Jonny stood up and said, "She fell ill really quickly. One minute she seemed alright and the next she couldn't breathe." Henrik was transfixed by the sight of his daughter crushed down by her own lungs. "We didn't know whether to tell Eleanor so we left that decision up to you. It's just gone six and my shift starts at seven, so I'd better go and get in my scrubs," he added, reminding Henrik that Jac and Jonny were not only his friends but part of the basic running of the hospital.

He was vaguely aware that Jonny had hugged Serena and patted Henrik's arm comfortingly when he hesitantly took a step towards the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from Anya. When he had said to Serena that Anya was as sick as she was going to get, he hadn't thought that an infection could have taken her so quickly and so effectively. He was a doctor; he should have known there was the possibility of this happening. But the paternal part of him had battered down the idea, too cowardly to deal with it.

He sat down where Jonny had risen from and took Anya's tiny hand in his. He didn't speak. He _couldn't_ speak.

He felt Serena's head fall against his shoulder and he instantly put his free arm around her, pulling her into his side while they both silently willed their daughter to have the strength in her to survive.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please fee free to leave me a review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is another quite sad chapter. Thank you to everyone, as always, who reads and reviews - love you all!**

**Sarah x **

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How long she sat there, just staring at her dying child, Serena was unsure. Her first instinct to cuddle Anya tight was beaten down by a vision of her child breaking at her touch. It was what she did. Everything she came into contact with, she broke it.

She loved Anya and look what had happened to her. She loved Henrik and look at the state he was in. She loved Eleanor and look at what she had gone through at the hands of her mother. Everyone she loved broke, and she was the only common factor. Her presence was the one thing that truly linked them as they broke. It was her destructive nature. The trail of destruction she constantly left behind her was killing her daughter. It was all her fault.

"_I sailed in on the Good Intent with all intentions clear; a man without a mystery; a vision brought me here_," Henrik sang quietly, his slightly shaky tone snapping Serena out of her inward torturing of herself. She looked to find him holding his wife and his daughter's hands.

"_The ocean gave me room to roam, but the shore is calling out_," Serena continued, frightened by the crack in her voice. "_So I will marry, build a home, and see what that's about_." Henrik looked around at her, his eyes soft and pain, and kissed her forehead, silently telling her to keep singing. "_Children came by dozens then; drifting __S__outh like rain; I work the soil; I use the gun; the waves have turned to grain_."

"_I tried to love this Arkansas with black and bleeding hands_," Henrik took over, leaning down to plant a kiss into his daughter's unkempt hair; the sight broke Serena's heart in two. "_But I will not survive this life, but I'll become a man_." It was Anya's favourite song from her favourite CD. Unnervingly to Serena, the whole album was written about death and anger and pain, but it was the one Anya had grown most attached to. "_My brother sold my mother's house; I never shed a tear; I could watch the world in smoke; there's nothing for me here_."

"_I've seen behind the darkened veil, and it's all I want to know_," Serena sang silently, hearing the hidden pain and tears in her own fractured voice. "_So I'll sail off on the Good Intent to my true happy home_."

"_Yes, I'll sail off on the Good Intent, never more to roam_," they sang the last line together.

It shattered her.

Unable to stay and unable to make Henrik endure her pain as well as his, she managed to choke out, "I'll be back soon." He didn't question her – that was one of the things she loved best about him – as she turned and tried to walk steadily out of the room, her knees shaking under her. She needed someone who wasn't already torn to help her out of the hole she was digging herself into. The dark, lightless pit where nightmares became reality.

She briefly thought about calling Jac or Jonny but knew she had no right to lean on them any more than she already had done. Sacha was busy and did not need the reminder that he had almost lost a daughter; she wasn't willing to put him through that deja vu.

She sighed and let the pent up anguish pour out, too pained to care if anyone saw or heard her as she stumbled down to the lift. She thumped the button with all her might until the doors opened to reveal Chantelle Lane, whom she had almost forgotten existed in her confusion.

"Mrs. Hanssen?" she whispered. Serena opened her mouth but nothing came out as Chantelle stepped away from the metal box towards her, banishing Serena's plan of getting in a lift with nowhere to go. "Serena, what's happened?" A look of devastated realisation fell on her face – still as bright and youthful as it had been seven years ago – and she gasped. "Oh, no. Is Anya..." she trailed away, nodding her head down the corridor.

Serena forced her head up and down once and immediately she was in Chantelle's embrace. "What am I meant to do?" Serena muttered.

"Be strong. Be kind. Be the Serena Hanssen we all love," Chantelle said into her ear. "OK?"

"OK," she replied, but she knew deep down she could not do this any longer. She couldn't find the strength. It was gone. Feisty Serena McKinnie was gone. Resilient Serena Campbell was gone. Persistent Serena Hanssen was gone.

Serena's phone rang and she wiped away her tears. Surprised by the caller ID, she said, "Sorry, Chantelle, but I'm going to have to take this." Chantelle nodded and bounced away down the corridor. "Hello, Satan," she answered the phone. As much as her ex-husband frustrated and angered her, she was almost glad to hear from him – it was someone to talk to that she hadn't already broken. "What are you after?"

"A chat," Edward replied simply.

"A chat."

"Yes." There was a tense silence before he admitted, "I've just spoken to Eleanor for the first time in three months and she tells me Anya has leukaemia. Why didn't you tell me?!" he demanded.

"Because it's none of your business."

"I could have helped," he pointed out.

"I don't _need_ your help!" she snapped, pressing the button again. "I didn't need your help when-" she cut herself off abruptly, remembering that Edward had no idea exactly how and why Anya was conceived. "Never mind."

"Serena," he sighed. "You can't hide from me. You can send me away halfway across the country if you want, but you'll never be able to make me believe you're fine when you're not. I know you too well."

She got in the lift with a groan. They'd been divorced over twenty years now but he could still hear every layer of her voice, even those she herself was unaware of. "ITU. She's in ITU on a ventilator," she confessed unwillingly.

"Oh, Christ," he moaned. "Do you want me to come down for a few days?"

The offer shook her slightly and she had to make a conscious effort to collect herself. "Nah. Stay at home with Milly Molly Mandy."

"I'll go where I'm needed," he replied quickly. It was his way of life, she remembered, to follow the work wherever he found it. He found it slightly too easy to uproot himself. "Or would you like me to go and stay with Eleanor?"

"She doesn't know Anya's in ITU and your mouth's bigger than your brain."

"Bloody hell, Serena!" he snapped impatiently. "I'm trying to help and you're still insulting me!"

"Sorry," she said, stepping out of the lift and into the cafeteria, her need for caffeine too string to dismiss. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. I get it." She heard him close a door behind him and realised he was at work; only double doors made that sound as they closed. "Just...call me if you need anything."

"Will do." She had no intention of asking that man for anything but the fact he had offered was an indication that he wasn't the total tosser she thought he was. "Thanks."

"OK, well, remember and look after yourself. You still have to sleep and eat. Don't go living on coffee," he cautioned her. He was right. He knew her too well. "I'm due in theatre in five so I'll have to go. Keep me posted, will you?" Knowing her well enough to know how much he would get out of her, he sighed, "Bye, Serena."

"Goodbye, Edward," she said, and she felt a strange and morbid significance to the words and her tone.

She hung up on him and fell onto a chair, every bone, muscle, nerve and organ in her body aching with a cold shatteredness that made her wish she was dead just for some relief. She couldn't push the image of her almost-dead daughter out of her mind and yet there was a part of her that couldn't quite believe it was true.

The most selfish part of her wanted to go and get drunk in an attempt to forget what was happening to her family. The only obstacle was her own mind – alcohol would not kill the pain. It would only magnify it. She was falling apart and she couldn't tell anyone. Not even her husband. She knew it was going to hurt him to know what was going through her mind. That she couldn't cope. That she wanted to end the pain, and that the only way to end the pain that she could see was to end her life and trust that Henrik was strong enough to keep going without her.

Everything about her life was agonising. Her daughter was dying. Her eldest daughter was pretending to cope with that fact. Her husband was trying to hold both her and himself together, and every time he successfully slotted a piece of the puzzle in the right place, another piece of her fell away.

She bought a coffee and headed for the stairs, her legs aching as she trampled clumsily up them, flashing an empty smile at colleagues she recognised. She felt them glare through the screen of strength around her to see just what she had become.

If everything she touched fell apart, and everybody she loved broke in front of her, what was she still doing here? "You should have killed yourself when you had the chance," she muttered harshly to herself, remembering all the times the thought had crossed her mind with the means at hand. She found herself at the top of the stairs, with nowhere else to go but the roof. She shrugged and stepped out onto the roof, deep patches of snow dispersed across it as the heat from the building below melted it away.

Her paper cup was hot against her now freezing hands. She wore no gloves or coat. She was practically bare against the elements. To sit here overnight would probably have been enough to kill her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, onto her chin and neck, as she realised why her legs had taken her here. This was the relief she wanted. This was the awful, selfish relief she craved from a world of terror and agony closing in on her, suffocating her every time she tried to breathe. This was the way out of losing her child.

She walked forward carefully and placed her coffee down on the elevated ledge as she brushed away the snow, the white mess icy against her hands, and stepped up, looking over the bleakly picturesque city. There was no-one below – nobody was stupid enough to willingly go outside in these conditions except her. Nobody to see her. Nobody to stop her.

She closed her eyes, the harsh light of the winter sun shining through her eyelids and silently said goodbye to her family.

"Serena."

The familiar voice opened her eyes but she did not turn to face her husband. Rooted to the spot, unable to step forward into blissful relief or backwards into burning reality, she breathed out the breath she had intended to be her last.

"Serena."

His voice was quietly urgent, and she knew he was panicking. She realised quite suddenly that he was equally lost without her as she was without him; to abandon him would be to destroy him. She felt a hand squeezing hers as he gently pulled her backwards off the ledge, away from the edge of the roof.

He said nothing for a couple of minutes, his arms holding her body tightly to him. She did not care about the temperature or her lack of clothes. All she cared about was that Henrik was here, holding her so she couldn't simply walk off the edge of the roof. She should have known better than to think she would have got off so easily.

She wondered how he had known where to find her and what she planned. The only way she could have known was to ask him. "How did you know?"

"Edward," Henrik answered her. "He phoned me to tell me he thought you were giving up on yourself. It appears he can still read you like a book, even over a phone line." Silently she both cursed and thanked Edward Campbell, knowing that he probably heard it in her voice the second she had answered the phone to him. She felt Henrik's arms still constricting her as the snow started to fall again, soaking through her thin blouse and into her skin. She was almost surprised she still had enough warmth left in her to melt the ice into water as it hit her body.

His hands rubbed her back as they stood in the still winter air, and she realised that he could not give up on her, even if she gave up on herself. She remembered him saying as much on their wedding day. The realisation broke her until she could not stand, only upright still because Henrik was supporting her as he always did.

Not only had she broken everyone she loved, but now she had broken herself.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts on it!  
Sarah x**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So this is sad and hopeful and happy in different places :) thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing too!**

**Sarah x**

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It was a week before the terrified numbness wore off and Henrik was able to feel the consequences of a week without very much sleep, food or hope. It was only as he trudged in the front door alone having left Serena at Anya's bedside that it all hit him. The vision of his wife stood on a ledge like an eagle about to fall haunted him every time he tried to sleep, or else it was the vision of his daughter taking her last breath.

He was utterly exhausted. He was so worried that Serena would slip away from him and that he would lose Anya to cancer and infection, he had forgotten to look after himself. He hadn't had a decent meal in a week. He hadn't slept uninterrupted in a week. He was beaten down but his love for his family kept him standing when he thought he was bound to fall.

For the first time in weeks – months, even – he poured himself a glass of whisky and sat down.

He had a lot still to accept.

A dying child.

A suicidal wife.

A broken step-daughter.

A shattered heart of his own.

How was he meant to save them all?

Taking his glasses off, he leaned forwards. His heart sank until it was no longer inside him, beating disembodied on the floor. He'd had enough. The weak and disgustingly selfish part of him wanted to do what he did to Maja all those years ago: walk away and forget he had a child and a wife. But he'd grown up since then and developed a conscience that would kill him if he ever did that to Serena, Anya and Eleanor.

He took a swig of whisky from the glass, the alcohol hitting him quickly in his tiredness and hunger.

It weakened him further until all the anger and pain flooded out in the form of burning tears and ripping sobs; he could not hold it in any longer, and this was the longest he had been left alone all week. After pulling Serena away from death he had not let her out of his sight. Even now, he had a nurse watching over her.

He cried and cried until his chest hurt and he could barely breathe, his restraints broken.

"Henrik?" the familiar voice of Eleanor Campbell called through the house as the front door closed. "Henrik, you home?!"

"In here!" he managed to call back. He heard the clacking of high heels but could not reign in his emotions before her four inch heeled military boots were blocking his blurred view of the light wood floor. He did not look up so she knelt down in front of him. "What are you doing home?" he asked.

"Got a few days off." He heard her sigh. "Henrik, look at me. _Look at me_."

He forced his gaze from the floor and onto his step-daughter's youthful face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand only to find them immediately replaced. "You shouldn't have to come back to this. Just go and get yourself settled in your room and I'll be fine in a minute or two."

"Hey," she chastised him gently. "My step-dad needs me. I'm not going anywhere."

"Your mother and sister need you more than I do," he pointed out. "They come first. I'm just the man who married your mother."

"I have two Dads, and to be honest you're probably the better of them," she informed him. She looked slightly embarrassed at her admission, but not nearly as embarrassed as Henrik felt at his reaction; her words only made him cry more. This was why he never lost control. When he gave up control, it was a struggle to get it back. She reached up and wiped away the tears she had caused with her thumb. "What's going on with you, eh?"

He looked into her eyes to see her scared to death of the state she had found him in. She already knew that Anya had taken an extreme turn for the worse. "Your mother..." he said, not sure whether he ought to tell her, but he came to the conclusion that she was an adult and had the right to know. "Your mother tried to commit suicide."

A look of shock spread across Eleanor's face like ivy sucking the life out of her bright eyes. "Are you...are you sure?"

"She was going to jump off the roof off the hospital," he explained. "Your father warned me. He phoned her and heard it in her voice, so he called me to warn me."

To say it aloud broke him down; he was taken aback when Eleanor's skinny arms pulled him into a tight cuddle. She had never seen him like this. Whatever happened, he had always made sure the children never saw him cry. But now he couldn't stop.

"I'm always here for you, Henrik," she reminded him quietly. "_Every day I wake up in this wor__l__d_," she sang gently into his ear, her voice as beautiful as her mother's. "_It's spinning out of control; who's at the wheel? It seems no-one knows; we're all just like the baby; frightened and so sad; feeling beat up by someone who looks like Dad; now you read a lot of things in the daily news; but I'm laying awake at nights wondering what to do; I pray the Lord our souls to keep; 'cause all down here __are__ fast asleep; __and I want to say_..."

"..._this world belongs to me and you; so we've got to wake up; this world belongs to me and you; just want to wake up; this world belongs to me and you_," they finished together, and he heard his voice thick and choked with tears. Her arms were still holding him in her caring embrace. He must had frightened her slightly, he decided.

"It's OK," she whispered. "Is there someone watching Mum?"

"One of Anya's nurses is keeping an eye on her."

Henrik heard the shrill ring of his phone from the coffee table. "It's Mum," Eleanor told him as she passed it over to him.

He wiped away the tears and gave a cough so she wouldn't hear he'd been crying. "Hello," he said.

"Anya's breathing unaided now."

This news lit a small light in him, knowing that Anya was no longer dependant on a machine to keep her breathing.

"Thank God," he breathed. "So is she awake?"

"Yep. They'll get the infection under control and then Flora can donate." He heard her careful hope through her voice but could not forget that she was more than capable of killing herself. "They're about to move her back down to Paeds so I'll have to go. I love you, darling."

"I love you too," he replied before he hung up on her. He turned to Eleanor and said, "Anya's breathing on her own."

She smiled. "Want to go and see her?" She eyed the whisky glass and added, "I'll drive." She took his smile as a 'yes' and she said, "Just let me get changed into my trackies. Been in these jeans all day. And you'd better go and wash your face if you don't want to let on you've been crying."

Her sudden enthusiasm bowled him over; after seven years he should have been used to Eleanor's tornado-like force but it was something he never grew accustomed to. She ran up the stairs – how she hadn't broken her ankle he couldn't understand – and he followed her, parting on the landing as he went to wash his face.

He couldn't take the emotional whiplash anymore. Just as he got used to the dead feeling in his heart, something revived him. And just when he got used to light and hope, something extinguished it. It was mad, but it was his life just now. He only hoped that the light beginning to burn inside him would be allowed to remain as he splashed water across his face.

It was a few minutes before he was in the passenger seat of Eleanor's bright purple Peugeot, the car she had chosen when Serena and Henrik had agreed that they would buy her whatever car she wanted. Though he trusted Eleanor's driving, it still made him slightly uneasy to be in the passenger seat with her driving.

"I fell out with my dad," Eleanor admitted out of nowhere.

"Why?" Henrik asked, turning to look at his step-child.

"He said some stuff about Mum, the usual 'she has to get what she wants, she can't keep her cool, she can't just be happy' crap and I guess I was just having a rough day. Ripped him apart and told him Anya was sick. I know you were trying to keep it a secret from him. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "In the end it probably saved your mum's life."

"Sometimes I just want to scream the truth at him," she confessed as she turned off the junction onto the bypass. "Maybe then he would understand."

"Edward isn't a bad person," Henrik reasoned fairly, not wishing Eleanor to bear a grudge against her father.

"I know. He's just thick as pig shit."

"Ellie!" Henrik exclaimed in surprised at her frank and rather crude summation of Edward's attitude. He met her eyes and they both burst out laughing, both unable to deny the truth in her words. Though Edward was usually friendly and tried to get on with everyone, he did, on occasion, remind the world why Serena had divorced him. He was not unintelligent, either, but he did things that made Henrik wonder just how functional his brain really was.

"Sorry," she apologised again. "You know, there are times I wish you were my dad. You're so much fairer than he is. You actually hear me out. And you're consistent. I'm his little princess one minute and then he doesn't bother with me for months on end."

"I have three children," Henrik stated simply. For the first time he counted all three – Anya, Eleanor and Fredrick – as his children. He watched her cotton on with a wide grin, satisfied that she now knew that she meant the same to him as Anya and that, while he kept extreme distance, her step-brother Fredrick was still his son despite the lack of contact between them.

"Better not tell Mum that. She'll think you've gone soft on her."

"She already knows."

"Why don't you try and contact Fredrick?" Eleanor suggested with more brawn and confidence than her mother ever dared to. "We're not a normal family but he's still part of it."

The fact his wife and Eleanor had both brought this up in one week rattled him. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was time to see what he gave up decades ago, now that he had the security of his family around him. Now that he had two of his children by his side, his heart wrapped up in his wife, perhaps he had it in him to contact his son, just to see what would happen. And if it worked out, then all the better. More additions to his family.

Before he knew it, they were parked outside the hospital. He got out and Eleanor was soon at his side, a foot shorter than him without her boots, her arm linked in his. To the rest of the world, Henrik realised, they probably looked like the perfect father and daughter. Parenthood had nothing to do with blood and biology; it was love, support, discipline and friendship.

They stepped onto the Paediatric Oncology ward and he instantly spotted Anya, predictably with an earphone in one ear. "Daddy! Ellie!" she cried with a weak glee that reminded him how ill she really was, like he wasn't reminded of that with every waking moment.

"Well, troublemaker," Eleanor smiled as she kissed her sister's cheek. "You're awake, I see." She turned to her mother and kissed her cheek too, smiling at Henrik as she got two extra chairs. She did not need told not to tell her mother what had happened when she found him in the living room; they had an unspoken agreement.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you thought of it!  
Sarah x**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: This is a bit of an odd chapter but I hope it's OK. Thank you, as always, to everyone who has read and reviewed so far!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena sat with Anya even after Henrik had been driven home by Eleanor. She had felt his eyes watching her just like the had done all week. She was quickly understanding that she had terrified him. She had been a moment away from jumping. That intense pain had crashed over her like a wave, leaving her shattered with an achingly desperate need for some kind of relief.

"_I watch the clouds go sailing; I watch the clock and sun_," she heard Anya singing gently. "_Oh, I watch myself depending on; September when it comes_."

"Darling, don't sing that, please," Serena asked, unable to hear the acceptance of death in the lyrics she knew her daughter loved.

Anya did not question her mother and remained quiet for a little while. Serena looked at the clock and said, "OK. Time to go to sleep, baby," she ordered gently. "You need to rest." Anya lay down and allowed Serena to pull the covers over her, pressing her lips gently into the child's forehead.

She was restless, but Serena had anticipated as much. She was probably in some pain, and was never a child who dropped into sleep quickly.

"Why are you crying, Mummy?" she asked interestedly. Serena hadn't even been aware that she was crying but, sure enough, when she brought her fingers up, her face was wet.

"Because I'm glad to have you back," Serena replied gently, stroking her fingers through Anya's ridiculously thick hair.

"I didn't go anywhere."

Serena sighed to herself; of course Anya didn't understand the pain. Serena often forgot that her daughter was still young and naïve and tended to take things for their literal meaning. "Mummy's just tired," she eventually dismissed her own pain, to be dealt with in the absence of her children. "Just sleep, darling."

Anya nodded. "_I'd give a lifetime, baby, to see you smile_," the girl sang to her mother, much to Serena's surprise. "_If you could give your troubles over for just a little while_."

"_And look at the truth_," Serena sang back, wondering how and when Anya had started to understand the true meanings of her favourite songs. "_It's right here staring at you; oh, angels bow when you walk by; and the rest of us here have always known why; __'cause a soul takes its blows and it does not reveal; the heart opens slow and it takes time to heal; but you can let go; it'll all turn to gold; my sweet child of steel_."

This time she was more than aware that she was in tears. Anya noticed and reached out for her mother's arm. "_And I watch you walk through fire; when clear water runs near_," Anya whispered. "_Watch your heart break open wide; a heart I hold so dear_."

Serena smiled at her daughter's touch. "_But look at the truth; it could burn a hole right through you_," she sang to her daughter, who was finally becoming sleepy. "_Oh, angels bow and cover their eyes; and the rest of us here just break down and cry;__ 'cause a soul takes its blows and it does not reveal; the heart opens slow and it takes time to heal; but you can let go; it'll all turn to gold; my sweet child of steel_." She stroked Anya's pale, soft face with the back of her hand. "_A soul takes its blows and it does not reveal; the heart opens slow and it takes time to heal; but you can let go; it'll all turn to gold; my sweet child of steel_."

She saw that Anya was sleeping now and felt compelled to push her hair away from her face. "My brilliant, beautiful, sweet child of steel," Serena whispered, trying not to break down in the middle of the children's ward.

"Mrs. Hanssen," the familiar voice of Anya's nurse, Jenna – now with a bright purple streak in her hair – addressed her gently. "When's Anya's birthday?"

Realisation hit Serena. In her distraction, she had forgotten that Anya's birthday was in four days' time. "Oh my God. I can't believe I forgot!" she exclaimed quietly. "If you hadn't reminded me..."

"It's OK. I just thought, you know, she's not getting out of here any time soon and we could throw a little party with cake and balloons and stuff. Would cheer the other kids up too," she suggested. This was why Serena liked this nurse. She wasn't afraid to make suggestions. "If you don't want to, it's fine."

"No, no," Serena smiled. "It's a brilliant idea. I'll get a cake from somewhere," she started to plan in her head.

"No, you don't worry about a thing!" Jenna protested. "I've got it all in hand." Jenna reminded Serena of a young, slightly Gothic, Chantelle Lane, a blanket of positivity in a place where desperation and hurt was the bedrock of life. "Now. Off home to Mr. Hanssen and Eleanor!" Serena raised an unimpressed eyebrow but Jenna was not frightened of her. "They're awake. Anya's asleep. Makes more sense to sit with awake people than asleep ones. I thought you were the Queen of Logic and Efficiency?"

Serena just huffed a half-laugh before she gave in and picked up her bag and coat, kissing Anya's hair gently. "Goodnight, baby," she whispered. She turned to Jenna and in a rare moment of outward weakness she hugged the young nurse with a renewed respect for nurses and the work they did. "Thank you for everything."

"All part of the job," Jenna replied. She patted Serena's back and released her. "Home," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Serena saluted jokingly before she looked back at Anya and left. She was on the stairs when Jonny Maconie passed her.

"Serena," he smiled. "Heard Anya's awake."

"Yeah," Serena replied, hearing the tiredness in her own voice. It caught Jonny's attention too; he stopped her on the landing.

"You're exhausted," he accused. "Have you even gone home in the past week?!"

"Yes."

"For longer than the half an hour it takes to get a shower and get changed?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"No."

Jonny shook his head to himself. "We're going for a drink."

"Have I got a choice?!" she demanded.

"Nope," he grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "And anyway, neither of us have cars, and it's only seven o'clock."

Serena had forgotten that she and Henrik had come in together this morning, and that Eleanor had taken him home in her car earlier. She assumed Jac had left earlier today and Jonny had said he would get a bus or a taxi home. She internally gave in and realised that there was no getting out of a drink with Jonny Maconie.

They wandered over to Albie's and slumped into chairs. "Henrik hasn't told you to keep an eye on me, has he?" Serena asked suspiciously, realising suddenly that Jenna hadn't let Serena out of her sight in Henrik's absence.

"No," Jonny replied. "Why would he?" She did not speak, seeing now that Jonny was not following orders but was trying to be a good friend to her, as if he had not already done enough for her. She glanced up to see him very worried. "Serena?"

"I..."

"Serena?" he asked more urgently.

"I went to...I was going to...I almost jumped off the roof," she finally admitted. The shock on Jonny's face felt quite surreal to her; she was beginning to understand the way the people around her viewed her. The ones who never got to see her broken. To everyone else, Serena Hanssen was the woman who personified strength and determination. She was not suicidal. She was not dying inside.

But she was.

There were lights and silver linings all over the place, but the darkness still swallowed it all up and she had to search with purpose and intent to find them. She was tired of searching. She was not sure how much longer it would be before it all killed her.

The world seemed to stop as Jonny stood up and dragged his chair around to her side. She hadn't realised that she was yet again crying until she heard Jonny quietly hushing her, his arm around her back as he pulled her into his side. "OK," he said. "I wasn't expecting that," he admitted. "But it's OK. You're still here. Anya's going to get better. Henrik loves you to bits. Eleanor's even home. It's all starting to look up, isn't it?" Serena allowed a nod of her head. "Flora's all for helping Anya. She's the first person I've ever known to get excited about a bone marrow harvest, and Jac's told her just how painful it'll be."

She smiled. "I do appreciate what you're doing for Anya, you know."

"I know," he replied.

"Still can't get my head around the fact that we're somehow related, mind," she added, remembering the confusion she had felt trying to understand how she and Anya shared genetics with Jonny and Flora.

"You'll know where to come if you need a kidney," he joked.

"Better not say that in front of Jac," Serena reminded him; Jac was still quite touchy about kidneys and family. "I don't think it would be a good idea for me to drink," she confessed. "If I went to commit suicide sober, I hate to think what I'd do with a drink in me."

"Good point," he sighed at their scuppered plans. "Let's just get a taxi, eh?"

She smiled and followed him out as he called a taxi for each of them. By the time she got home, she had a semi-artificial smile painted on her face. She was pieced together for the rest of he world, but she knew that as soon as she was alone with Henrik tonight that perfect image would shatter.

They were sitting on the sofa with the TV blaring and takeaway cartons and a couple of lager cans littered across the table, looking like a right pair of slobs as Eleanor sat with her feet on the only clear corner of the coffee table. "What's this? Michael Spence's college frat house?" Serena raised an eyebrow at them, but she was not actually annoyed. If anything, she was glad to see them relax for once. To her amusement, Eleanor immediately took her feet off the table upon seeing her mother.

Serena rolled her eyes and took her coat off, grabbing a fork and sitting between her husband and her daughter, stealing food from their plates as compensation for the mess they had made of the living room.

"I love you two," Serena announced, making Eleanor and Henrik exchange a look she could not decipher.

After an hour and a half of watching the television and giving each other cheek, they agreed to call it a night, all three completely exhausted. She was only just in her pyjamas and had her teeth brushed when she felt Henrik's strong arms around her waist. From behind her he squeezed her tight. "Stop pretending," he whispered. She dropped her head. She had known Henrik had seen right through her earlier. She felt his lips pressed against her collar bone in a comfort she always treasured. She reached up and touched his face with her fingertips. "Bed," he ordered her.

She followed his command, feeling very much like he was looking after her rather than simply standing by her. She pulled the duvet over herself, glad to be sleeping in a bed for the first time all week. Henrik got in next to her, his arms instantly pulling her into his chest. How did he always know when she needed him? He knew even when she didn't.

"Do you know what I would do without you?" she asked him gently.

"No."

"Neither do I."

He kissed her gently, his hand on the back of her head, keeping her close to him. "You should have come to me," he whispered. "You were suicidal. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were in enough pain," she reminded her husband quietly, feeling guilty for putting him through the terror of seeing his wife on the edge, moments away from jumping. His arms tightened around her, like he was afraid she was going to disappear, and she felt the fear radiating from him. The fear of losing her. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, accepting the amount of pain she had put him through.

"It's alright."

"It's not."

"I know." The admission that he saw that what happened that day on the roof was wrong and should not have happened was like a knife twisting in her stomach. The air was burning black around her, once again swallowing her up; the only thing that reminded her she was safe was her husband next to her. "But I promise you, my love, you can come to me with anything. Don't worry about hurting me."

"You would go through more pain? Just for me?"

The concept of someone going through more agony than necessary to heal something as insignificant to the world as her heart was difficult to accept.

"I would walk through hell and back for you."

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This is where it all starts to pull together, methinks. And this is a slightly strange chapter. Not sure why. Just feels that way to me. Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews!**

**Sarah x**

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Wherever Flora Naylor-Maconie had acquired her extreme generosity, Jac was certain that it was not from her. She suspected Jonny had something to do with that fact that, once awake and out of theatre, Flora barely complained. She acknowledged she was in pain, but she didn't complain about it. "Are you sore, sweetheart?" Jac asked gently, checking her watch for when Jonny was off work and Jac could run up and tell Henrik in person how it had gone.

"Yeah, but it'll go away," Flora explained. "It's OK if it helps Anya."

It left Jac lost in thought; her daughter, at the age of seven, was far more generous and kindhearted than she had ever been in her life. At the age of seven, a day after attending the hospital birthday party of her dying best friend, she had gone through a massively painful procedure because she knew the good it was going to do. Flora got her head around so much more than Jac managed to as a child.

The logical part of her knew it was probably Jonny's influence that created that part of Flora, but Jac could not help but wonder if she herself could have done the same at that age. Probably not, she concluded. Even now, well into her forties, she would have had issues with it. The selfish part of her had urged her not to let Flora go through with this, but she was not completely evil. Not anymore. It was Flora's wish to do this, and independence and freedom of speech had been forced on Jac at a young age – she had given those things to Flora as a birthright. She had never wanted her daughter to wake up one day and realise that the world was a total screw up and she had to stand on her own; she had decided to be open and give Flora a reasonably degree of her own freedom.

She was pulled back to the ward by Flora. "So what happens now?" she asked.

"Well," Jac smiled. "They put the bone marrow they just took out of you and put it into Anya and, fingers crossed, it will make her better."

"And what about Serena?" Flora demanded.

"What about her?"

"Will she stop crying?"

Jac smiled at her concern. "Yeah, baby, she'll stop crying."

She stayed silent for a few minutes. If this saved Anya, it was an end to everyone's pain. It was an end to watching the two strongest people she knew falling apart.

Jac often wondered whether, had Serena never been raped and never fallen pregnant, they would, to this day, be at each other's throats. They had barely been able to sit in a room for very long together. Jac had noticed them becoming closer when they had returned from Brighton; she had noticed him watching her, looking troubled and worried.

The looks and conversations the two had shared in that first month had gone unnoticed by most but Jac had heard the pain in Serena's voice. And the care in Henrik Hanssen's face had been, she recalled, almost disturbing – she always knew something was off when Henrik had actually cared about someone.

Jac had watched their relationship grow out of pain and trauma until, somehow, they managed to transform all of that into a truly happy, loving family. It was something Jac wouldn't have managed, and she had the greatest respect and admiration for them for their love and determination to live a happy life together.

She heard the familiar footsteps of Jonny behind her and turned to see him smiling. "How are my girls?" he asked cheerily, sitting in the other chair.

"We're fine, Daddy," Flora replied before Jac could.

"I'm going to go and see Henrik in a minute," Jac said, leaning over to quickly kiss Jonny when she stood up. "They should be discharging her tonight so just take her home."

"Aye," Jonny said, and she saw the suspicion in his face, probably wondering if her going to see Henrik was an effort to do something about Serena's deterioration. After all, Jonny was the one she had told about her suicide attempt, and who had been the one to remind her all the hope she still had in her life now that Anya was improving a little.

She climbed the stairs quickly, arriving at his door in no time at all. She didn't bother to knock – he had grown used to her appearances by now. Henrik quickly shut his laptop, his hand stopping it from going on standby. She eyed him suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

He looked guilty as sin; what he was guilty of, she was yet to determine, but he looked guilty as hell nonetheless. She prised the screen from his hands and lifted it up, watching him become extremely uncomfortable. "Facebook?" she asked, confused when she saw the familiar logo. Oh. "You've found your son," she realised, taking in the picture of man who was effectively a young Henrik Hanssen, surrounded by a wife and two children. Henrik remained silent. "What's changed?"

She perched herself on the edge of his desk and waited for him to answer, something she knew he would do when he managed to string a comprehensible sentence together in his head. "Both Serena and Eleanor have...suggested that I contact him."

"And you've decided it's time," Jac concluded. She had known from the moment she had found out about all this, accidentally, three years ago that he would eventually have the bottle to deal with his son. He now had a daughter and a step-daughter as well. He had a family, and yet he was only just now willing to take that shot in the dark and even contemplate contacting Fredrick. It was not something Jac could pretend to understand, but she hoped Fredrick was not as bitter about the absence of a parent as she was.

He nodded his head. "Yes."

"Well done."

She meant that sincerely, glad he had found the courage to confront what he had done after thirty-odd years of letting it eat away at him.

"I have a problem," he admitted.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I don't have a Facebook account."

"Make one." He raised an eyebrow at her and she suddenly cottoned on. "You don't know how to make an account, do you?" She laughed and added, "I'll help you, OK?" She put her finger to the touchpad, intending to make one there and then. "Only takes five minutes."

"Thank you," he replied, turning the laptop towards her.

She smiled and answered him, "You could have just asked." She shook her head to herself as they went through the process, until they reached the stage of finding a profile picture. "Have you got any family photos on this thing?" she asked, tapping the corner of the screen with her fingers. They eventually found one with Anya sitting on his knee, his chin rested on her head. "Cute," Jac grinned, knowing Henrik still hated to be referred to as such. A minute later, she was able to announce, "All done. You'll have to go into your email and click the confirmation link but after that you can add Fredrick and see what happens."

"Thank you," he said. "Was there something you came here for before I interrupted with my lack of social networking skills?"

"Just to update you," Jac replied, leaning back against the desk as Hanssen went into his email for the Facebook link. "Flora's had her bone marrow harvested and she's fine. Should be able to transplant it into Anya soon."

The hope and light in his face was satisfying; to know she had helped put it there was worth the world to her. She now understood Flora's determination to do good. She found it odd that her daughter had learned something long before she ever understood it herself. That Flora had been the one to teach her generosity was a bit strange for her – it had always been the other way around.

"I hope you all know how much this means to us," Henrik told her.

"We do," she assured him, patting his shoulder lightly. "I'll see you soon," she added, getting up to leave.

When she got to the door, she heard him say, "Jac." She turned and waited for him to speak. "Were you and Jonny planning on getting married any time soon? I know you're engaged but I was just wondering if you had any set plans," he rambled. Since when did Henrik Hanssen ramble?

"Um," she said uncertainly, having not really discussed it yet with Jonny. "Not really, no. It's all been a bit hectic. More on our minds than white dresses and champagne. You know the feeling."

He nodded, and she shot him a suspicious look. It was not often that he asked a question so random, odd and seemingly pointless. "Definitely getting married though?"

"Yeah," Jac smiled, giving away just how happy she was with Jonny. "Yeah, we are."

"Very good."

Jac just smiled and left. Once she got to the other side of the door and he could not hear her, she said aloud to herself, "Bloody hell, that man is odd." She pulled out her phone when it vibrated in her pocket to see a text from Jonny.

_Flora will be out by 7 xx_

Jac looked at her watch. It was already quarter to six and she hadn't even noticed. _OK. Going to the shop. Do you want anything? Xx_

A minute later, on the stairwell outside Keller, her phone vibrated again. _Chocolate. __White.__ And some chocolate pudding for Flora :D xx_

Jac rolled her eyes and replied, _Chocolate and pudding. Got it. Just take Flora home and I'll see you when I've done the shopping xx_

_ OK xx_, Jonny replied within a minute.

She jumped when the doors leading out from Keller opened and Serena stepped out. "Serena," she smiled. "It's all gone well. Flora's fine and they'll be able to put the bone marrow in Anya soon. Probably tomorrow."

The look of hope Serena wore at this news was similar to Henrik's except, while her hope was more cautious, she was more unreserved with her appreciation. Jac was taken by surprise when Serena pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," the older woman breathed.

Jac patted her back and replied, "No problem."

Serena smiled – probably the first real smile she had worn in ages – and the same wave of satisfaction fell over Jac. They went down the stairs together, and Jac decided to address Henrik's odd behaviour. "I don't know if I should be telling you this," Jac began guiltily, but she felt compelled to tell her to save her any nasty shocks. "Henrik's trying to get in touch with his son."

"Oh," Serena said. She looked surprised but not unhappy. "How's he doing that?"

"I've just helped him set up a Facebook account."

"So if a tall Swedish guy – one who _isn't_ my husband – shows up at my door, he's my step-son," Serena concluded. "Thanks for the warning," she smirked, patting Jac's arm in that motherly fashion she always seemed to be doing.

"Oh, and why would Henrik be asking about mine and Jonny's non-existent wedding plans?" Jac demanded, hoping that Serena knew where his bizarre curiosity originated from. She looked surprised and shrugged her shoulders. "Christ, the man is just as strange as he was a decade ago," Jac laughed.

"And yet I still married him," Serena pointed out.

"I know."

"What was I thinking?" Jac looked at her, unsure if she was serious. "Joking."

Jac just grinned and shook her head to herself. "I'd better get going. Got to do the shopping. I'll see you tomorrow."

By the time she reached her car, Jac felt a deep sense of hope and a vision of a healed Anya and a brighter Flora playing in the garden crossed her mind. She didn't doubt that this was going to bond them for life.

And whatever Henrik was up to...well, she wished him luck. She had a feeling he was going to need it.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Did I or did I not tell you that things were pulling together? None of you seem to trust me :P thank you as ever to everyone who has read and reviewed!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena sat down next to Henrik on the sofa, having spoken to Anya's consultant over the phone; tomorrow she would be having Flora's bone marrow put in her, and Serena was silently praying to whoever it was looking over her that it was going to work.

Henrik was abnormally absorbed in the screen of his laptop. She knew why but she didn't let on that Jac had told her. "What's so interesting?" she asked. "Earth calling Henrik!" she said, waving a hand between his face and the screen. He looked around. "You've been staring at that screen for half an hour non-stop, darling."

"Sorry," he whispered, but he did not close the page or put away the laptop.

"Tell me," she commanded him gently. He had been there for her through everything. She felt it was time for her to do something to help him if he needed it, which he rarely did. Well, she was sure he needed her quite often, but he never admitted it. She leaned into his arm and looked at the screen, encouraged by he fact he did nothing to hide it from her.

She saw a string of messages between Henrik and Fredrick, thankfully in English. From what she could gather, Henrik had made a thousand apologies, all of which Fredrick seemed to have accepted in good grace. Henrik had described Fredrick's sisters to him, and his step-mother, and the situation concerning Anya.

"I can't believe you've actually done it," she admitted, kissing Henrik's cheek gently. "I am so proud of you for finally finding the guts and courage to do this."

"It's surreal," he confessed. "I've been adamant for thirty years that I would never do this." Serena slipped an arm across his stomach, under his arms, and snuggled into him, more relaxed now than she had been in far too long. "He's a lovely young man."

"He's always welcome here. I'm hope you've told him that," she added sternly. "Him and the wife and kids."

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked, and she watched that evil smirk she loved spread across his face.

"What?"

"You're now a granny."

"Oh, don't!" she whined. "Don't make me feel old!" She smiled at the sound of Henrik's low chuckle and remembered the first time he had inadvertently made old; not long after she had been attacked, they had went to dinner and he had brought up the subject of her birthday. She had not known that he would have gone out of his way to provide a birthday gift to cheer her up.

A sudden thought crossed her mind. "Why on Earth were you interrogating Jac about her wedding plans?" she asked. His face had that mischievous look about it again.

"I was going to talk to you about that." He looked down at her. "I was going to suggest that we pay for whatever kind of wedding they wanted. It's not like we don't have the money, and traditionally the father of the bride pays for it all, but Jac has absolutely no family. None she's on speaking terms with, at least."

She was slightly taken aback by the idea, but it was one she liked. She wanted Jac to have a fairytale wedding. And she wanted herself and Henrik to pay for it. Whether Jac would allow it was another matter, but Serena had a feeling whether she accepted it depended on how she was approached about it. "I think it's a brilliant idea," Serena smiled.

Relief washed over his face and she realised he had been dreading her reaction. Still, after years together, he still was often torn about how she would react to certain things. She knew most people would still describe her as 'scary' but she could not see it herself. Perhaps she was just surrounded by cowards.

She put her hand on his face and pulled him down slightly so she could kiss him gently, washing away the apprehension about tomorrow even if only for a little while. She put her hands in his hair as she felt him trying to resist; it wasn't long before he closed the laptop and placed it haphazardly on the floor. Laughing to herself, she pulled him down with her. She kissed along his jaw and whispered in his ear, "I love you."

His hand slipped down her shirt, against her heart, and he replied, "I love you." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down until he was pressed against her; she felt the heat of his body against hers and realised he was no longer cold. There was life in him again. He had recovered quicker than she had.

His lips trailed kisses from her mouth, down her throat and onto her chest; she let out a low moan as his lips rested briefly on her heart. She felt his precious smile against her skin; she was never going to take his happiness for granted again. Not after the torture she had watched him inflict on himself. He pulled her closer and gently kissed her nose. She giggled but froze when there was a deep clearing of a throat behind them.

"Have you ever heard of knocking, Jonny?" Henrik demanded, her arms still around his body. Her eyes widened when she realised it was Jonny who had walked in on them.

"I did knock!" he protested. She heard the mischief in his voice when he added, "No need for blushing, Henrik," Jonny replied. "Yous are married, after all."

She felt Henrik climb off of her, looking thoroughly embarrassed, and Serena scrambled upright, pulling her shirt back over her shoulders. "Bloody hell," she muttered in annoyance of looking like a teenager in front of Jonny.

"Is it safe to take Flora in or will she need a blindfold?"

"Shut up," Serena grumbled. She got up and went to the kitchen and started making coffee. "Is Jac with you?" she called to Jonny.

"Yeah!"

She started spooning out coffee – and chocolate milk for Flora – when she sensed Henrik's presence behind her. "Stop laughing inwardly," she snapped, not even needing to look at him to know he was trying to refrain from succumbing to the amusement. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck lightly. "You'll be the death of me," she warned. "If I don't kill you first."

"Mmm," he murmured, his face buried in her hair. "You love me too much to do that."

"Ugh, get a room!" a voice behind them exclaimed. Jac was standing at the door watching them with a smile, despite her outward disgust. She just shook her head and went to join Flora and Jonny in the living room.

When they went through to the living room themselves, they found Flora sitting in the corner with her father's iPad. "Shouldn't you be resting?" Serena asked her, handing her a glass of chocolate milk.

"I'm fine," she shrugged, much to Serena's amazement. How could she possibly feel fine? And then she remembered. She was the daughter of Jac Naylor, the queen of feeling 'fine.' She was blocking it out, which, at the age of seven, was really quite remarkable.

"She's had all her favourite food tonight, haven't you, sweetheart?" Jonny asked, pinging her nose lightly. "Fish and chips, chocolate pudding, prawn cocktail crisps, and now Serena's giving you chocolate milk." She giggled and Jonny added, "You're right spoilt."

"Milk it for all it's worth, darling," Serena advised as she sat next to Henrik. Jac laughed and touched the screen of the iPad; Serena assumed they were playing a game of some description. She watched them, hoping that soon Anya would be back here, happy and healthy. Jac glanced at Jonny, and the look they shared worried Serena. "What?" she asked. They looked at each other again. "What?!"

"We were wondering..." Jonny began, but predictably chickened out.

Jac rolled her eyes. "We were wondering if you could help us pick a venue for this wedding. Henrik's got me thinking and it's about time we got it done, but Jonny wants a church wedding and I'm not so sure." Relief crashed over Serena once more, until she realised it was now her turn, and Henrik's, to be apprehensive. "I just don't think it's right since we're not really religious."

"But it's traditional," Jonny chipped in. Serena rolled her eyes. She should have known that they would have had problems agreeing on all this.

"Well," Henrik began, shifting in his seat and obviously slightly terrified of telling Jac what he had proposed to Serena. "Serena and I would like to pay for and help organise your wedding."

"What?!" Jonny exclaimed, sounding like a puppy who had its tail stood on.

"Why?" Jac demanded.

"It seems only right after what you have done for us. It's the very least we can do," Henrik explained.

"We didn't let Flora donate because-"

"We know that," Serena cut Jac off. "But we _want_ to, Jac." The look of shock on their faces was something to behold; it took some doing to surprise Jac. She was lost for words, and Serena and Henrik had left them no choice but accept. "Fairytale wedding?" Serena smiled, and the beam that broke across Jac's face was testament to the little girl in her who still believed in love and dreams. Jonny smiled in resignation.

"Thank you," Jonny said. "Thank you so much."

He stood up and just about crushed Serena in a cuddle. "OK, Jonny, I can't breathe," she coughed, gasping for air. She had forgotten the enormous physical strength he possessed. He did the same to Henrik, who was far from impressed, before he sat down with an arm around his daughter. They had diverted attention away from their disagreement and silently decided to leave it to another day – there was plenty of time to plan it.

"Did you get anywhere with you-know-what, Henrik?" Jac asked cryptically.

"It's alright," Henrik smiled. "Serena knows. And yes, I've got somewhere. I think. I find it difficult to tell when there's no face, body language or voice to read." Serena smiled quietly to herself, knowing how difficult Henrik had always found those kinds of situations difficult if he couldn't hear or see who he was facing. But he had tried nonetheless, and for that she was forever and immensely proud of her husband.

"Wait, got anywhere with what?" Jonny demanded, obviously having been kept in the dark about it.

"Yeah, forgot to tell you," Jac scratched her head as she spoke, "Henrik's decided to speak to his son."

"Aw, that's brilliant. Took you long enough, but good on you," Jonny smiled. This was the lightest Serena had felt in months. It was bizarre. Anya wasn't even healed yet but still the knowledge that the ball was well and truly rolling and that this could be one of the last nights in hell was uplifting.

By the time Flora, Jac and Jonny left, Serena was exhausted again, but not in the same way she had grown disturbingly used to. The energy had been willingly given rather than forcibly drawn out of her when she had nothing left to give. She turned when they were climbing the stairs to go to bed just so she could look at Henrik's face, to appreciate the man who had kept her going when all she had wanted to do was give up. He looked at her questioningly but she did not speak. She only smiled, glad that she could do so, and went into the bedroom to get ready for bed.

She was half-asleep when Henrik finally joined her, having presumably sent a 'goodnight' message to Fredrick; she could not resist turning over to face him when she felt his hand on her hip. "Did you know, Serena Hanssen, that you are the bravest, most beautiful, most incredible woman I could have asked to be my wife?" he asked her, and she briefly wondered if he had had a drink or three, but she smelled no alcohol on his breath.

She grinned and kissed him with more force than she had intended, but was pleased to find his fear of breaking her gone as he pinned her to the bed with his entire body, leaning in to kiss her with what she knew was everything he had.

Everything he was, she knew belonged to her. Everything she was, she gave to him.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Again, a strange chapter. Sorry it took a little while to update - I got myself addicted to and distracted by Orange Is The New Black. My bad. It's just too good. Thanks as always to everyone reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Test results. A simple piece of paper Henrik had come to dread receiving, for each one had a tendency to hold worse news than the one that preceded.

His hands were shaking, a loss of control so obvious to everyone as he stood on AAU that he tried to remind his feet how to move towards the lift. He would not open this envelope in full view of those he commanded; the contents had the power to shatter him, and he would be damned if that was going to happen in public.

The ward spinning around him, he managed to get to the lift and press the button for his floor where he knew his wife would be wearing a hole in the carpet as she paced up and down his office impatiently. They had made the mutual decision that Henrik was to receive the results. He knew she did not trust herself to be able to look alone. She was no coward. If she was she would not be the woman she had survived to be. But she was scared and she could not look alone. He knew his wife that well.

He had watched her believe in the power of medicine only to question it five minutes later. He had watched her believe Anya was improving only for her to again question it. He watched her mistrusting life itself, depending on the day this envelope arrived.

He opened the door and found Serena, as he had predicted, pacing up and down his office in impatient anticipation.

She glared at him expectantly.

He came to stand beside her, and he felt her lean her forehead against his arm as she attempted to compose herself. "Open it," she whispered. He looked down at her to make sure she was ready. "Just open it before I run away," she warned, and he knew she was sorely tempted to run. She never ran anymore. Instead she had learned to let him love her, something he was extremely thankful for.

He ripped the envelope open with little grace before he himself could chicken out. As soon as he unfolded the paper he forced his medical mind to kick in, a safety net in case what he read was not what he wanted to see. As he scrutinised it all, he felt the dark cloud above them begin to evaporate, leaving a renewed purity in the air around them. Breathing was suddenly light and easy, the tight bindings around his chest loosened.

"It's worked," Serena whispered. "I can't believe it. It's actually worked!"

He turned to see her face only to find a mirror image of his own stunned delight. Before he could reign her in, she was suffocating him in her arms with a level of strength he had almost forgotten she possessed. He smiled into her neck. The realisation that life could now start returning to whatever strange normality they had created hit him, as did the tidal wave of relief in knowing that it was more than likely his youngest child was going to be absolutely fine. He put his wife at arm's length and kissed her lightly.

The tension in Serena's body seemed to melt away, the wife he knew and loved returning in her eyes.

Serena Hanssen's broken ghost evaporated. He watched the old Serena Hanssen – the pillar of strength – return before his eyes. That in itself felt like a miracle; the fact he could keep his daughter with him was barely believable.

Serena released him and he was happy to find her grinning like an idiot. "I have to tell Eleanor! And Jac and Jonny."

"And Edward," Henrik stated bluntly before she could continue. After talking to Eleanor about this, he had been mulling it over in his head and had come to the conclusion that the man needed to know all his ex-wife had gone through to truly understand her unpredictable nature and her slight control issues.

"Nothing to do with him," she shrugged. She was already texting who he assumed was Eleanor, who would currently be at work.

"No," he sighed. He tilted her chin up with his finger so she had to look at him. "I mean you _have_ to tell him. You have to tell him everything. I mean it, Serena."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't understand," Henrik explained gently. "Did you know that Eleanor isn't on speaking terms with Edward?" he asked, though he knew the answer. Of course she didn't know. Eleanor had been far too concerned for her mother's frame of mind to tell her, and Edward, upon finding out about the state the family was in, was doing his utmost not to rock the boat by telling Serena what had happened between him and his daughter.

"Don't be silly," Serena laughed, dismissing his revelations.

"I'm not. Serena, I'm serious. He _needs_ to understand what's happened. From the start. How your life ever got to this point." In that moment she looked almost frightened by the prospect but Henrik stood his ground; she was no stranger to pain, and he knew she was aware that it was rarely in vain that people suffered. Something always changed through suffering, internally or externally. "You need to tell him everything that has happened, from Brighton up until now."

"But-"

"But nothing. He's not a monster, Serena. He's an idiot at times, most definitely," he smiled slightly. "If he knew, I would be willing to bet my right hand that you would get on much better. He would understand _you_ better."

"I hate talking about it," she confessed, leaning her forehead against his chest.

He understood that. He did. But he felt Edward had the right to know, because what happened did not just affect Serena. It affected Eleanor too. She had kept quiet about it, but she grew up rapidly from that point on, and began to harbour her own troubles from her mother's sight, and her disapproval of Edward's attitude to the considerable changes in Serena had begun to cause a rift between the two. Henrik had watched it happen and had not stepped in, believing that it was not his place and that they were adults and could work it out themselves, but he was wrong. It was time to put his foot down. It was time to make her explain herself, because the fissure developing between Serena and Edward and Eleanor was becoming wider than ever before.

She walked away from him without a word, and he knew he had upset her. To get Serena to do what was best for herself, he had to upset her. It was a shock to the system for her, and he knew that if she was ever going to tell Edward, it would only be once she had been given a talking to by her husband.

The only other way was to rip her defences down, which could be done in two ways: either kiss her until she succumbed through distraction, or give her no choice in the matter. He hated to go behind her back, so the former usually was his first choice. But he swore to himself now that if it didn't work, he would go around her and take the choice away from her. She would no appreciate it but it was what was best for her, for Eleanor and for Edward. They needed to understand each other, and harbouring secrets did not help.

He stalked out of the office, letting the door slam behind him, and down to AAU where he knew she was working. He took her by the hand and into the consultant's office, pressing her against the closed door as he kissed her in an attempt to weaken her defences. Her body arched into his as she kissed him back, her hands on his face.

"What's got into you?!" she gasped between harsh, imperfect kisses.

"I don't want to hurt you," explained Henrik. He placed his hand over her heart, making sure it was beating in time with his. That they were both still alive; that was his greatest fear. The fear that they were no longer living, only existing, was ever-present, and he checked every day that there was life in them still.

He kissed her roughly, not caring about the moment or perfection when there was more than that between them. Between them there was pain, love, trust, dependence, passion...everything they had suffered and built together. Her low moan reminded him she was living and breathing and hurting, even when the worst was over.

The closeness of her body, warm and soft against him, was a comfort. He moved a hand up to her face to find hot tears pouring down her face. He'd done it. He'd broken through that defence of hers, so that she could see past her own hurt. She was in pain, but there was a bigger picture; he knew she saw it. She just didn't want to deal with it. He stroked her cheek lightly and kissed her again quickly before he cuddled her tightly into his chest.

"You're right," she whispered. "Edward needs to know, doesn't he? For Eleanor's sake."

"For yours too," he added, his face pressed into her hair. "I love you. That's why I'm pushing this. I know you need it."

"How do you always know what I need?" she sighed into his chest. "You know me better than I know myself."

"I'm your husband," he replied. "I watch you every day. I watch you bend and break and still somehow survive. I watch you be the best wife, mother and doctor you can be. I know what the warning signs are. I know there are people you can never trust and things that you can't know. I know who you need, even if you don't always want them. You're like a language I've learned, and I know you like the back of my hand now."

"That must be the sappiest thing you've ever come away with," she teased him. "What if he hates me, Henrik? What if it makes him hate me?"

"Edward's silly," Henrik agreed. "But he's not like that. Even I know that."

She said nothing more, only pulling her body in towards his looking for comfort, but he knew she was steeling herself to face Edward. It had to be done face to face – not the sort of thing that could be done over a phone call. If it healed the relationship between Eleanor and both her parents, then it was more than worth it. The girl was only in her twenties and had not had anyone to talk to about anything for seven, nearly eight, years. She had learned to keep it to herself and every time Henrik had tried to help her, she had emulated her mother and stonewalled him. It was only recently that she had started to open up to Henrik, the only parent she had who she felt at ease telling her problems to. It was not fair.

"We'll have a party for Anya. We'll invite him. Then I'll tell him on my terms," she allowed. He stroked her hair gently. "Now why don't we go and tell Anya she's going to be OK?"

"Sounds like a good idea," he smiled. He took her hand and led her out, both ready to face the good and the bad of what was ahead.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you're thinking!  
Sarah x**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sooooooo. If this doesn't make any sense and/or is just total rubbish, it'll be because I'm exhausted after a stressful day. I somehow managed to forget how to drive. Yes, I know. I'm an idiot. **

**Thanks, as always to everyone who has read and reviewed!  
**

**Sarah x**

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"Anya, darling, go and put the CD player on," Serena ordered her daughter. She was waiting for Jac, Jonny, Flora, Edward, Eleanor and a few of her friends, and a few colleagues to descend on her house and she was starting to wish she had never subjected herself to this. Each of them separately, she was more than capable of handling, but together, though harmless, she knew they could stretch her patience.

Henrik followed her to the kitchen, where she stood, leaning forward into the counter with her head in her hands. His strong arms were secure around her waist, reminding her she was safe wherever he was next to her. "Calm down," he advised her gently. "It will all be fine. Trust me."

"Edward..." she whispered. "I can't do it, Henrik. I can't."

He turned her around in his arms until she was looking up into his face. "You can do _anything_," he said. She closed her eyes as he kissed her gently in a comfort he always knew when to provide her with. She reached up and pulled him down, never wanting to leave the safety of his embrace. He broke away and took her hand, bring it up to his chest, trapping it flat between his hand and his heart. "This belongs to you. No matter what."

"No matter what," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper as she was reminded that, regardless of everything else in the world, she still had Henrik. Always.

She started slightly when the doorbell rang. She painted a smile on her face before she opened her front door, allowing Jac, Jonny and their daughter to bounce in. Jac held a bottle of wine in her hands. Jonny carried a massive chocolate cake, probably home baked by one of his sisters; Flora held a teddy bear and a massive bag of sweets.

Serena followed them into the living room and took the first kind of alcoholic drink she was offered, not even caring what it was she was drinking as long as it gave her some false sense of strength and courage. Facing Edward was never easy, but especially in this case. With madness and memories had come distraction, with which she had lost he ability to predict her ex-husband's feelings and actions.

She let Henrik answer the door as guests trickled in and Flora and Anya grew more excited, in a combination of playfulness, sweets and cake. She laughed. She smiled. She dreaded Edward's arrival. Assuming, of course, that the damned man even intended on showing up.

Eleanor sauntered in with two of her friends, kissed her mother's cheek and squeezed her tight, as if afraid she was going to evaporate. Distraction came at will, but Serena tried not to allow herself the luxury. She needed to steel herself for Edward's reaction, because she was never quite sure of him these days.

Being Edward, he didn't knock. He was there behind her with no warning, having just walked in by his own accord. Though it irritated her, she knew he meant no harm and that it was just part of his nature to be overly familiar. He handed her a bottle of wine.

"Edward, I need to talk to you," she sighed, deciding to get it over and done with now, before she drank away her courage. She placed her hand on his back and guided him to the kitchen, closing the door behind them. She leaned over the sink for a moment. "You'll have to bear with me. I don't even know where to start. I should..." she struggled, a realisation hitting her suddenly. "I should have told you years ago. Henrik's right. It would have stopped the fighting and the misunderstandings if you'd known."

"Serena, you're rambling," he informed her. She heard the smile in his voice, and she knew he was thinking it couldn't be that bad and she was worrying about nothing. She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Come on. Whatever you're on about, just tell me."

She gasped, suddenly blinded by a strange transparent darkness, a memory she had not found until now. A memory for which she had searched for years. Shadows she had tried to outrun.

_A hand pressed her __arms __to the wall. The man smelled of alcohol and smoke, his eyes disturbed and distant. She wasn't even sure he knew exactly what he was doing. "Henrik!" she choked._

"Serena?" she heard Edward's seemingly far away call. "Are you OK?"

"Yes," she snapped, though she hadn't meant to come across as impatient or rude. She was meant to be helping matters, not making them worse. "Do you remember when I went to Brighton?"

"Yeah," Edward replied. "Yeah, you and Henrik went. You said you damn near killed each other."

"We both could have been killed," she allowed. "But it wouldn't have been our arguing that did it."

_"Who do you think you are, you snobby cow?" he growled at her; the alcohol on his breath assaulted her senses, making her retreat backwards, only bruising her back further against the wall. His temper broke, and she felt him rip her coat off in anger._

Edward spun her around gently until she was facing him. "Serena, what happened?" he asked her. She watched it dawn on him that something had gone badly wrong on that trip; the undisguised concern and fear in his face reminded her he was not inhumane, only stupid. "That was when you changed. When you tightened the leash on Eleanor. That was when you got all cynical and distant with me." She didn't say anything. It didn't take him long to panic. "Serena, tell me what happened to you!" he ordered her urgently.

_Her blouse was torn from her body. He pushed her down __by her chest__; her head hit something as she fell. The place smelled of dust and fuel, though when they had entered there had been little there but a few jerry cans and workbenches littered with items she wouldn't have been able to name. She grabbed the bottom shelf of the bench, trying to force herself up._

_ The darkness seemed to spin and warp, her head pounding as it bled._

"Henrik isn't Anya's father," she heard herself say, feeling disembodied. Why was she recalling all this now?

"Then who is?"

"A man..." she said. "When we went to Brighton, there was a run-in with this group of drugged up men and they attacked us and...and one of them..." she forced out.

_His inhumanely strong hands held her down by her throat. __It was with a frighteningly effortless ease that he ripped and tore at her clothing as he pleased, touched any part of her that he pleased. She struggled beneath his grip but it was no good; he was far stronger than her, and far more confident._

_ The power of drugs._

_As her brain struggled to remain aware and functional, she felt the weight of a man on top of her. In a moment of weakness, in the harsh realisation that she was powerless and they had disabled Henrik, she succumbed to the darkness. It was easier this way_.

"One of them what?" Edward demanded.

"Raped me."

A look of shock and horror fell on his face. "Permission to hug?" was his reaction. Rendered speechless, expecting a row, or to be called for every name under the sun, she could only nod her head in the knowledge that Edward was not malicious. He held her head into his chest like he used to when she cried. Except she couldn't cry now. She was all cried out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know how you'd react, and I didn't want you to think I was weak."

"I'm not _that_ bad," he defended himself quietly. She had thought his hatred would have been bad but somehow this was worse. Everything that had just made itself known in her head played over again. She had to escape. She couldn't discuss this in full. Had she not remembered all that, then it would have been easier, but she couldn't string the right words together.

"Go back to the party. I'll join you in a minute."

He looked unwilling when he released her but after thirty years knowing her he had learned to pick his battles and pick them wisely. He ruffled her hair and went back to the lively sitting room, immediately talking to Henrik.

Serena looked around. She needed space to make sense of this. And something to dull the memory. She looked at the back counter and spotted a bottle of vodka. Guiltily, she picked it up and sneaked up the stairs. As she sat down on her bed, she opened the bottle and took a swig, the ethanol burning her throat. She realised suddenly that she hadn't turned the light on but found she didn't care. It was solitary confinement of her own doing.

She could almost feel his breath against her face again. His hands against her chest. Against her arms. Against her throat. Choking her. Depriving her of air.

Her arms bare against the cold ground. The smell of fuel and dust and copper grease. The abandonment of light. She remembered. Why had she only seen all this now? Why now? She had gone over that night a million times and her head and every time had drawn a blank, and yet, as she told her long-divorced ex-husband, it had come to her, easy as air as it tried to strangle her.

Without a thought for it, the bottle was suddenly half the weight it was, the digital clock half an hour ahead of where it had been. She heard a footstep on the stair outside the room and willed Henrik to leave her alone; she knew he would have come looking for her now.

Light flooded the room.

"Serena?" she heard the voice of her husband, but he was hazy. Her medical mind reminded her she had simply consumed too much alcohol too quickly, but it did not dull the aching fear that she had finally crossed the line. If Henrik were to put a stop to this, if he were to leave her, she wouldn't really blame him.

The runaway train had finally crashed after years and years of being held on the rails by a husband she didn't deserve.

"This is meant to be a party. Anya's party. Flora's party," she said, not really connecting it to anything but her own self-loathing. "I'm such a selfish bitch!"

He kept quiet for a moment, and she felt a pressure on the bed next to her that told her he had sat down beside her. In fact, he didn't speak at all. He put both arms around her and cuddled her to his body; she found it almost surreal, the way he knew her pain before she explained it. The way she didn't need to ask for anything. The way he just willingly and silently gave her what she needed, never questioning her strength even when she was weak.

"I remembered," she whispered to him. The words fell out of her mouth, out of her control. Alcohol and terror had stripped her of control. "Talking to Edward. Telling him. I remembered what happened. Everything up until I got knocked out."

His hand slipped around hers, coaxing the bottle from her hand. "Then there's no need to dream anymore," he reminded her. "There's no need for you to fill in the blank."

"But don't want to remember."

"You've been trying to remember ever since it happened."

"I thought I wanted to," she tried to explain. "But now I know, and I wish I didn't."

He didn't argue with her, but she almost wanted him to. She wanted an argument. She wanted to fight with him. She wanted him to demand a reason for her irrationality, but she knew he loved her too much to say anything about the twisted logic in her head. He probably wanted to but he wouldn't.

She compared the darkness of the garage to the light of her bedroom. The smell of petrol and metal and dust against the smell of her sweetly fragrant home. The cruelty of Adam Cross compared to the love of Henrik Hanssen.

Everything was a one-eighty.

She had subconsciously created her life to be the opposite of everything in that memory, even as she had blocked it out. She had always known. Her mind just hadn't let her in on its own secrets.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, haha. Forgive me ;) thanks as always to everyone who reads and reviews :)**

**Sarah x**

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Serena was woken when she heard footsteps coming into the bedroom. She felt around for Henrik, finding with a great deal of relief that he was fast asleep next to her. She switched on the bedside lamp and looked to the door; Anya stood there in her pink onesie with her teddy bear and her hair in knots.

"Mummy," she whispered. "Are you OK?"

"Of course I am, sweetheart," Serena lied with a bright smile. "Come here," she added, beckoning her to join her in bed. She watched with amusement as Anya scrambled up beside her, standing with her arms spread for Serena to pull her under the covers without waking Henrik – something they had perfected by the time Anya could walk.

She felt her child's little arms holding onto her. "What were you telling Eddie? Did he upset you?"

"Don't be silly," Serena scolded, pressing her face into her daughter's soft hair. "What makes you think that?"

Anya looked up. "You ran upstairs." Serena realised only now that she had been seen disappearing for an hour, Henrik having followed her. That Anya was catching on. She was able to see the cracks. Why did she have to have to be so aware of those around her, and their emotions?

"Edward and I were just talking about something, darling. That's all. We haven't fallen out," she promised.

"Then why did you run away?"

"Because what we were talking about wasn't something I like to talk about," Serena explained, trying to keep as much of the truth hidden as she could, though she knew she had passed her own persistence down to both her daughters. "That's all. Edward's not upset me. He gave me a big cuddle," she added in an attempt to put the girl's mind at ease; she knew that Anya liked Edward because he was laid back in comparison to her own parents.

Anya's arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her down into a hug. "Like this?" she asked.

Serena had to laugh quietly at her child's blissful naïvety. "Yes, just like that," she smiled. She rubbed her back lightly, reminding herself that Anya was not weak like she was. Anya never cried, even as a toddler. Serena felt recently that she had done nothing but cry, only to find tonight that she had no tears left.

"What were you talking about?" she asked. She sounded interested and inquisitive as she asked a perfectly innocent question with a repulsively cruel answer. But Serena had told herself she would never lie to Anya. Not even about this. Instead she had decided she would explain it in terms that could be understood by a child of whatever age Anya was when it came up. She had hoped Anya would have been older though.

Serena made a quick decision – tell her, in simple terms, what happened but don't tell her that Henrik was not her biological father. That had to wait until she was old enough to see and understand the whole picture.

"I was telling him something," Serena began. "Because after this happened, I became quite mean to Edward sometimes. Your dad made me tell him so we could be friends again."

"What happened that made you be nasty to him?"

"Before you were born," Serena sighed, brushing Anya's hair away from her face. "Your daddy and I went to a conference. We were walking down the street and we had a bit of a row with a group of men. They lost their tempers and they hurt me and Daddy. It took me a long time to get back to normal, and Edward and I had a lot of arguments about Ellie because I was overprotective and made life difficult for him."

"Is that why you phone Ellie every day when she's not here? So you know nobody has hurt her?" Anya asked. Serena was always astounded by the things Anya picked up on. She was quietly observant.

"Yeah," she replied. "And I'll do the same with you when you're all grown up and move away."

"I don't want to move away," she immediately protested, and Serena grinned at her immaturity – the only thing that reminded her that her daughter was still an innocent child.

"Don't worry, darling," smiled Serena. "You stay here until you're good and ready to move away." She felt Anya nod into her chest. "Right. Back to bed with you."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Serena answered. She got out of bed and took her unwilling daughter into her arms, carrying her back to her own pink bedroom. She placed her into bed, kneeling down beside her. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

Anya nodded. "I love you too, Mummy," she smiled tiredly. "Night."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Serena smiled. She kissed Anya's cheek and left her to fall asleep; as she wandered back to her own bed, she couldn't help but think of the mess she had intended to leave Henrik in only weeks ago. He would have had to tell Anya and Ellie why they no longer had a mother. He would have had to raise Anya without her. He would have had to keep Eleanor on the rails. Not to mention keeping himself on the rails.

She climbed into bed and felt Henrik's warmth next to her.

"You handled that well."

The sudden breaking of the silence startled her and her heart leapt into her mouth for just a moment. "Jesus Christ! Don't do that to me, Henrik."

"Sorry."

"Children are resilient," Serena dismissed his praise. "They can take almost anything." She turned around to face him through the darkness, bringing her hand up to feel around for his face. All night she had been thinking she didn't deserve him. He was better off without her; she was a weight around his neck, pulling him down until he was at her level.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered gently. His hand found her hip and pulled her towards him.

She paused, thinking there was only one possibility to make his life easier. "I think we should separate." She heard his breath catch. He reached around for the bedside lamp to flood some light on her suggestion.

"Where is this coming from?" he demanded.

"I'm dragging you down, Henrik," she explained. "I love you. I really do love you. But I keep thinking...you'd be better off without me." The shock in his face transformed to resignation and then to pure love as he smiled slightly. "I'm glad you find this funny," she snapped impatiently.

"I don't!" he replied. "But I should have seen this coming. This is because you've been struggling, isn't it?" he asked her. It was with reluctance that she nodded her head. His hand found its way from her hip to the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly. "You don't bring me down, Serena."

"Henrik," she sighed. It was time to address the issue that burned in the back of her mind. "You had to stop me committing suicide. You can't be trying to say you're happy with being married to me. I'm a head case."

"But you're _my_ head case," he smiled gently.

"I'm too reliant on you, Henrik. It's not fair for you to have to keep me standing."

He rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching, and stared into her eyes. For once, she hid nothing as she gazed into his. She didn't see the things she expected – disappointment, anger or hatred. His dark eyes were loving and soft.

"I love you," he whispered. "Don't leave."

His kiss paralysed her, frozen in time. It split her in two. To know he loved her ripped her apart, because she knew he was too good for her. She lost herself for a moment until her own whimper pulled her back inside herself and she regain control. She assertively broke their kiss as she felt a need to make her feelings known before he sentenced himself to putting up with her madness.

Their foreheads still resting against each other, she swallowed back the lump in her throat. "I love you too. But I can't keep hurting you. It isn't fair. Do you realise the situation I almost left you in?" she demanded softly. "Do you realise that I almost left you a widowed father?"

"Yes."

"And are you OK with that?"

"No," he confessed. "But only because I know now how much pain you must have been in to attempt it. Your judgement was clouded."

Serena sighed in frustration, his fingers stroking the back of her neck lightly. "Why are you determined to forgive me?"

He chuckled gently, as if trying to find a way to make her see what he did. "There's nothing to forgive, Serena." He moved his hand to rest on her face. "You were in pain. So much pain that it crippled you. It's not your fault you felt like you had to find some relief." His outlook was polar opposite to hers. She felt like she needed him to either punish or forgive her selfish weakness, but he didn't seem to see anything other than her, desperately agonised and looking to find a way out. And he didn't blame her.

Hesitantly, she allowed her arm to fall around his neck, curling around him until they were locked together. "I can't understand what you see in me," she confessed. "There is _nothing_ for you to love about me."

"Yes, there is," he contradicted her. "Your brain. Your heart. Your beauty."

"But I'm weak," she reminded him.

"If you were as weak as you think your are, you wouldn't have made it a month after you were raped," he said.

"Why don't you want me to leave?" she asked curiously.

"I don't want to be without you," he confessed. She looked straight into his eyes and saw them shining with unshed tears. "I don't mind if you rely on me. That's what a marriage is. I'm anything you need me to be, just like you're what I need you to be."

She found her tears again and did not try to curb them. He kissed her carefully, and she moved her free hand to his cheek to find she was not the only one crying. The toll this ordeal had taken on them was beginning to come to the surface, and Henrik was letting it out too.

She felt her body shaking with sobs but she did not stop kissing her husband. Why was he still so obviously in love with her? How could that be? After all her screw ups, after all her destructive stubbornness, how could he possibly still be in love with her? After going behind his back, after trying to commit suicide, after defying him with all her might, here he was, loving her like had done for all these years.

"I love you," she reiterated. "And I'm so sorry, darling. For everything. For making Jac go behind your back. Freezing you out. Trying to kill myself. Being totally mad."

He reached around briefly and turned out the lights, leaving them in a suddenly calm, serene darkness. His arms wrapped around her body tightly, keeping her safe from the ghosts and demons in this room, lurking behind her. They were always going to lurk behind her. "It's alright," he reassured her. "I love you. So much."

She could feel his tears falling into her hair, onto her scalp. "I'm not going to leave," she sighed, knowing she didn't have the guts to do it anyway. She would be lost without Henrik now.

He didn't speak but he squeezed her tightly in his arms. It was like he wanted to make sure he never had to let her go. He loved her and, though she so often felt she didn't deserve his love, she was immensely thankful for it. It was time to start healing and she knew she couldn't do it without Henrik. She couldn't have healed without him the first time she had been broken so now, in a worse state than she had ever been before, how could she possibly expect to heal without him?

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you're thinking!  
Sarah x**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: This was a slight nightmare to get typed up due to a new laptop I still haven't got the hang of using. But I hope it's worked out. Anyway. Thanks as always to everyone who has read and reviewed!**

**Sarah x**

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Henrik woke up with Serena's arms wrapped around him. He didn't wake her; after the past few months, she needed all the sleep she could get, and he wasn't going to take that from her. Her face was pale in the low light seeping through the pale curtains.

It had been a long time since Henrik had seen her this lost. It was like watching her stumbling through a black forest after she had fallen away from the footpath, unable to find her way back and instead trying to work out a way to survive in the darkness forever.. He was trying to guide her back to where she was safe but she was finding answers that made no sense: divorce and suicide.

It terrified him.

The idea that she no longer wanted to live was hard to take in but he knew that was how she was feeling. She denied it, said that she no longer felt that way, but he could see that flash of despair in her eyes when she looked away from him.

He looked at the clock. It was Saturday and it was only half past seven. When he had eventually fallen asleep with Serena clinging to him, it had been with tired strain and reluctance. The overprotective part of him had wanted to remain awake and watch over his wife but the logical part of him knew that wasn't going to make much difference. She was still a mix of who she was and how much she could hurt; he had watched the combination twist her until she fell against him, ready to break in two with the strain.

The basis of that overprotection was simple – he didn't want to lose her. He _couldn't_ lose her. Not through divorce. Not through suicide. Not through any other means Serena's damaged mind imagined. He did agree that in most conventional senses his life would be far simpler without her in it. That simple life, however, was sure to be unbearable. He would rather be with her and share with her a mad, complicated, bizarre life than have a straightforward life that she wasn't a part of.

He suddenly felt her twisting in his arms and he instantly put the lamp on. It was quickly apparent that she was dreaming, but what of, he dreaded to think. Her whimper startled him. "Serena," he whispered. She continued to struggle with the invisible; he placed a hand on her face and tapped her cheek lightly. "_Serena_." She woke suddenly, and through the dim light of the lamp he watched her eyes dart around the room as she searched for something that wasn't there. "It's alright. It's just me."

She nodded, her face cold against his warm skin. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," he said. Her instant reaction to apologise to him was something that had always baffled him; there was no need for it. Not with him. Not when he knew her inside out, and knew why she did the things she did. Did she not realise how much he loved her? How much he was always willing to take from her so he didn't lose her?

He kissed her when he felt her hands fall around to his chest. Her lips were cold. He couldn't understand that. The temperature of her skin was so low it was cold to the touch.

He pulled away from her. "I hope you realise that you're the world to me," he murmured to her. "I know you see yourself as worthless, but you're not. You're by no means flawless, but nobody is. You've got to understand, Serena, that I love the flaws. I love every part of you." He squeezed her tight as she fell against him. "So when you think you're not worth the air you breathe, or you feel like I must hate you, remember that. You're worth more than you realise. I love you more than you could ever know. And I would be lost without you," he confessed.

As he finished speaking, he felt her fingers in his hair. "I know you love me," she admitted. "Just sometimes I think you shouldn't." Their eyes were locked together as he looked behind the shining mass of brown; she was still hurting. He was starting to think she would never stop hurting. But it didn't faze him. She was still Serena. Still his beautiful wife. "Could you do me a favour?" she asked of him gently.

"Anything."

"Just kiss me," she requested. He saw in her eyes a pain she was trying to kill. A road she was trying to find. A solace she had become lost trying to find. "Just remind me who I really am."

He obeyed, but he couldn't help the gentle way he was handling her. He hated to see her in so much pain. She, however, was less than gentle. She was rough and unthinking as she pulled him on top of her, and he couldn't help but wonder...was he killing her pain? Was his touch what dulled the ache? He had never thought he had that power. He had never imagined that he was what kept her fears and agony at bay.

He let his hands fall under her t-shirt and her nails were tracing down his back, her arms locked around him. Her low moan was almost hopeless, and it warned him that she was still in a bad place. That she was using this intimacy with her husband to try and run from the shadows chasing her, dancing around her. He felt the entrapment she felt radiating from her body; she needed freedom, and she was mistakenly seeking it in him.

He took her top off and placed his hand over her heart. This time he wasn't making sure he was alive. He knew he was alive. But he wanted to be totally sure _she_ was alive. "Henrik," she gasped out between harsh kisses. "Henrik, I love you."

He leaned off of her. Her voice was broken, and he didn't think it was mere passionate breathlessness. "I know that," he told her. "I've never doubted that."

"Even after all the stupid things I've done?"

"Especially then," he admitted. "You're a complicated woman."

"Then why ask me to stay?" she demanded.

He smiled and flipped them over as one until she was on top of him. "I like a challenge."

She kissed his chest, her fingertips still cold. He waited for her to cry but she didn't. Instead he had to work out whether she was healing or not, and whether he was doing her any good at all. He pulled her down to him and trailed kisses from her chest and up her throat until he reached her mouth. Whatever she was playing at, he just hoped it was helping her. Whatever she was hoping to achieve, he just hoped it eased the pain.

He ran his hands down her arms, surprised to feel an unevenness there that had been absent every time before. He looked down to find her arms raw and red. The skin remained unbroken but as he looked closer he saw where a sharp object of some sort had been run across her arms. His heart skipped as he realised what it was. He looked back up into her eyes. He saw now why she felt weak. Worthless.

He traced the raised pink lines with his fingertip. "You don't need to do that," he reminded her. "Why have you been doing this to yourself?" he asked her. He was not surprised when she shifted herself off of him; it was the one thing she had kept a secret from him. Everything else she had admitted to. He could only take that as a sign she was actually ashamed of who she had become. "'Remind me who I really am...'" he repeated her words from earlier. He remembered her words from before they had fallen asleep and realised she must have done this last night while she was drunk. When she had asked him to leave her to collect herself.

She wriggled away from him, putting distance between them. "I was drunk," she admitted. "Last night. I was drunk and I couldn't take any more and it..." she trailed away. "It was easier than saying it all out loud. It was better than bothering you. Don't you see now that this is why you're better off without me?"

"No. No, I don't think I would be better off without you," he said, the passionate love and fear bubbling to the surface. "I think I would be fucking miserable without you."

The use of coarse language – something he never did – turned her head. He couldn't help it; she was hurting him. More specifically, her pain was hurting him. The fact she couldn't come to him and tell him just how awful she felt. She got out of bed and wandered away to the bathroom without even bothering to put her top back on.

Henrik, confused and frustrated, ran his hands over his face. Why couldn't she understand that it didn't matter what she did to herself? He loved her. All of her.

He stood up and went to the bathroom door and knocked. She didn't answer. "Serena, open the door, darling!" he called gently through the wooden door. No answer. "Open the door or, I swear to God, I will break it down!" That must have caught her attention; he heard movement from inside the bathroom before the door opened to reveal haunted-looking Serena. He stepped past her and locked the door so she could not easily escape. He didn't care if she didn't like it. It was time to make her see some sense.

He stood tall in front of her as she stood with her back to the wall, his hands gripping her bare shoulders. "Now you listen to me," he ordered her firmly. "You don't need to harm yourself. All you need to do is talk to me, Serena. Because I'll always listen to you. So. Tell me." She remained silent as he searched her face. "Tell me everything you're feeling."

She looked up at him. "You really want to know?" she asked sceptically. "Really?" Henrik nodded his head once in response. "I feel...lost. Every time I feel OK, something goes wrong. And then I get so run down that all of that is more than I can handle," she explained. "And then I convince myself I'm useless, and that you and the rest of the world would be better off without me. And then you say or do something that convinces me otherwise and it all starts again. Only this time, too much came at once and telling Edward the truth was the last straw."

Guilt fell over Hanssen for insisting that she talk to Edward. The logic that remained in his mind told him that she would have been pushed beyond the edge of reason at another point and this would have happened anyway.

"Don't you hate me?" she asked.

Henrik pressed her gently into the wall. "No. It doesn't matter what you feel, how you speak to me, what you do to yourself. I," he said, pressing his mouth into hers. "Love." He kissed her again. "You," he finished with a firm kiss. "Do you understand me?"

He took it as her acceptance when she gave a gentle smile with her hands on his face and pulled him down into a deep, unflinching kiss. Her hands reached into his hair and he kissed her throat, her soft whimper this time not as broken. Had he finally convinced her that she was loved?

The pain radiating from her was not so intense anymore; it was there but it was no longer unbearable. Her very touch seemed lighter and more optimistic. He felt himself fall in love with her again as his hands fell to the drawstring of her pyjama bottoms. He noticed her hands and lips were no longer frozen.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for loving me. All of me."

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I managed to type this up despite my totally buggered right hand. The conclusion is that I've damaged the tendon in my wrist when I caught my hand between the inner sill and gearbox of a 1973 Mini on Wednesday :( ANYWAY. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, as always!**

**Sarah x**

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Jac started slightly as her phone beeped; she had been concentrating on colour schemes with such intent that she had been deaf to the world. It was a Facebook message. From Fredrik Johansson: _Be a lifesaver? Pretty please?_

Jac laughed incredulously and replied, _How?_ She had known adding that man on Facebook had been a bad idea. She had added him a day after Henrik had, and so had Jonny, partly out of curiosity. She had wanted to know if Henrik's child was anything like the man himself. It was bound to land her in trouble.

"What's so funny?" Jonny asked as he sat down next to her. He handed her a cup of tea and started opening that packet of biscuits.

Her phone sounded again: _Pick us up from the airport :) PLEASE?_

Jac had to read that message twice and Jonny was looking over her shoulder. "Oh, Christ," Jonny groaned. "Haven't you told him Henrik doesn't like surprises?"

_Mail me your number, you cretin! Henrik's going to blow a gasket over this!_ she warned him. She added to Jonny, "I didn't think that was necessary. They've been in touch for weeks now. I would've thought he could figure that out for himself! _Idiot_!" she ranted. She felt Jonny's calming hand on her back as she bit into a biscuit in frustration; how could any son of Henrik Hanssen and Maja Johansson be so utterly thick? Had the gene pool totally failed him?

Her phone made a noise and she immediately called the number he gave her. He answered after two rings. "Hello?" His voice was deeper than she had expected, and there was the laughing of children on the background.

"You idiot," she scolded him instantly. "I don't know if you've picked up on this, Fredrik, but your father and surprises don't make a brilliant combination," she explained. "Especially since he's only just getting over what happened with Anya. Not to mention the mess Serena's in! Are you insane?!"

There was a pause. "I'm sorry. It was my wife's idea," he added, his accent fairly thick.

"Oh, that's right. Blame the wife," she rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not going to leave you at the airport so Jonny and I will come and get you. But you're not staying at my house when Henrik doesn't know you're here. He'll kill me if I lie to him about this," she laid the law down. "I'm taking you straight to his place to face the music. Got it?"

"Of course," he immediately answered. "Thank you."

"Right. We'll take both cars – I'm assuming you've got suitcases?" she asked, grabbing her keys and climbing the stairs to get Flora.

"Yes. Thank you, Jac. I owe you," he admitted.

"Too bloody right you do," she grinned. She opened Flora's bedroom door and said to her daughter, "Get your boots on, sweetheart. We've got to pick a silly man up from the airport." Flora jumped off her bed and put her book down. "If Henrik has a heart attack, I'm blaming you," she added to Fredrik. "We'll see you in about an hour."

"Thank you," he said again, and she didn't doubt his sincerity. She hung up and guided Flora out of her room with a sigh. "I'm a dead woman," she muttered to herself. Henrik was sure to blame her for this, despite this was the first she had heard of Fredrik being in the country. Jonny was waiting at the front door for them, holding both their coats.

Jonny looked as worried as Jac felt; what if Henrik kicked off over this? But it didn't change the fact that she couldn't leave a family in an airport with no clue of where they were going. It wasn't fair. Whether Henrik liked it or not, he was why they were here. It was time he took full responsibility for his eldest child.

She strapped Flora into her car seat and started the engine, trying to figure out how much trouble she would be in for aiding and abetting Fredrik. She could only hope that Serena would be there to reign him in if he got a bit overzealous in his disapproval.

Serena, at least, had been happier over the past few weeks; about a month ago, at her little party, Jac had noticed her sneak into the kitchen with Edward Campbell and then sneak up stairs looking rather tortured. But since then she had gradually got her smile and her sparkle back, something Jac had happily observed. And when Serena was happy, so was Henrik...perhaps he would be in a half-decent mood and refrain from getting too angry with her. She hoped, anyway.

An hour of driving and worrying later, Jac pulled up in front of the airport, Jonny behind her. She briefly considered leaving Flora here with the doors locked – for all the time they would be inside for – but her maternal instincts, as always, prevented it. She wanted her child where she could see her.

She took Flora's hand and headed inside with Jonny to the terminal where the flight from Stockholm had landed; Fredrik was as tall as his father and therefore stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd. He walked over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you," Fredrik smiled. "This is my wife, Sarah, and my daughter, Sonja, and my son, Jakob," he introduced his family.

"Hey," Jac smiled. "Jac," she added to Sarah, who shook her hand. "Jonny," she nodded to her fiancé. "And Flora," she finished, a hand on her daughter's back. "Right. We'd better get going."

Jac took Sonja's case from her, and Jonny took Jakob's, and they headed out to the cars. Sarah and Sonja got in the car with her, and Jac realised there was a problem. She opened the boot again and searched frantically for the cushions she knew was in here for when Flora would fall asleep on long journeys. "What is wrong?" Sarah asked.

"Um, there's a law here," Jac explained, pulling out the cushions. She ran over to Jonny and handed him the purple one before she sat Sonja on top of it. "Kids under a certain height are supposed to have a booster seat. If her head's seen from the window then the police are less likely to pull me over for it."

"Oh, I see," Sarah smiled as she got in the passenger seat. Jac turned the engine on. "I'm sorry for just showing up like this. I thought it would be easier this way. It gives them both little chance to run away," she said. Jac laughed, knowing just how good Henrik was at running away.

"I'll warn you," Jac sighed. "Henrik's a very strange man. He's gotten better since he got together with Serena but he's still a bit odd."

"Yes, Fredrik said Henrik is married," the Swedish woman said. "What is Serena like?"

Jac grinned, biting her tongue in case she made Serena sound like a complete bitch. Which, of course, she wasn't, but she liked to let the world think she was. "Serena's...just as strange as Henrik. She's strong though. Stubborn as hell. She's been through so much, so you have to forgive her quirks. She can be a bit controlling of her surroundings."

"Ah."

"Don't be put off by it. She's incredible," Jac said candidly. She could hardly believe she was sat here singing Serena's praises, but it was true. She was living with grace and love after she had been broken more times than anyone deserved. "Don't worry about her. She'll welcome you with open arms."

"And Henrik?"

"Henrik has an unfortunate habit of letting his fear battle with his conscience. It drives him mad sometimes."

Sarah turned to her and Jac glanced around. "So he is not going to be happy to see us?" she asked, and the worry in her bright eyes was starkly obvious.

"I'm not saying that, but perhaps surprising him wasn't the right way to go about it," Jac allowed.

Sarah sighed and leaned her head on her hand. "I should have known better. I should have asked first."

Jac shrugged her shoulders. "Better to seek forgiveness than ask permission." She heard Sarah chuckle nervously and had the feeling they would all be seeking a lot of forgiveness soon enough. Henrik was not going to be a fan of this, at least not initially, but he would have no choice. Perhaps Sarah was right and backing them into a corner was the best thing for the two men. If the son was anything like the father, it was necessary to force their hands. "Is Fredrik alright with this?"

Sarah laughed. "Do you think I would have got him over here if he wasn't?"

"Fair point," Jac chuckled. She looked in the rear view mirror to see Flora showing Sonja her book – 'Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry' – and was promising to let the young Swedish girl watch all her movies and hear all her CDs. Jac had always admired that about her daughter; if she had taken anything from Jonny, it was the ability to instantly get on and share with people. It had been at its most visible when Flora had so easily agreed to try and help Anya, despite how painful she was warned it would be. Even after donating she had not thought much of the discomfort when compared to saving her best friend's life. It was something Jac loved to watch grow every day in Flora, grateful for the influence Jonny had in her life.

It felt like they were parked in front of the Hanssens' front door too quickly; Jac was steeling herself for Henrik to flip his lid at her without even hearing her side of the story. Normally he was calm and fair, but she knew when it came to protecting himself and his family he could be fierce and often irrational.

Jac and Sarah got out of the car and took their daughters by their hands, walking over to Jonny's parked car. The men too were getting out, Jakob clinging to his father. "We are _so_ dead," Jonny moaned helplessly. "I mean, what bright spark came up with the ingenious idea of springing _this_ on Henrik Hanssen?!" he demanded.

"Me," Sarah smirked, but Jac knew Jonny was too terrified of Henrik to feel bad that he might have offended someone. "I know now I was reckless. But we are here and I am not coming here just to go home without even trying," Sarah asserted fiercely, gaining a great deal of respect from Jac in the process. It was clear to her that Sarah was not a woman who was going to give up on anything she started.

"This is a bad idea," Fredrik nervously fretted. "He will freak out."

"Of course he is!" Jac agreed. "He's had no warning. But he'll get over that and he'll be pleased to have you." She was not merely trying to soothe the man; she knew Henrik well enough to understand that he would be startled by the sudden appearance, but she was also sure he was going to overcome that and grow a backbone so he could embrace his son's presence.

The seven of them trailed up the front path, Jac taking the lead with Sarah and Fredrik next to her when they arrived on their doorstep. She pressed her finger to the bell, recall only two other occasions she had felt such dread doing so. Funnily enough, one of those involved Henrik too, when she had been sent by Serena to Sweden to find him and see what on Earth he had disappeared for two months to do. The other was many years ago when she had followed her mother, only to find her getting ready to leave her all over again.

The door opened to reveal Serena who, once she realised who was at her door, smirked to herself and called to her husband, "Uh, Henrik, it's for you!"

Henrik soon appeared and an expression of shock spread across his face, draining him a ghostly white.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: OK. This wasn't how this chapter was meant to go. But I got a bit too sentimental so do remember I am odd at the best of times ;) thank you, as usual, to everyone who has read and reviewed!**

**Sarah x**

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Henrik was frozen. He vaguely heard his wife invite the two families into the house. Disconnected from his brain, his hand yanked Jac from the front of the line and hauled her by the crook of her arm into the kitchen. He slammed the door with all his might behind him as fear transformed into every emotion he knew, anger taking the lead.

"What on Earth do you think you're playing at?!" he hissed furiously at her. He couldn't get his head around the fact that everything he had spent his life running from was currently in the next room.

"It wasn't me!" she defended herself. He saw that she at least believed what she said. Perhaps she spoke the truth. But it didn't change the fact that she had brought to his door everything he had tried to hide from. Everything he was only just coming to terms with. How could he force himself to accept this so suddenly and so quickly? How could she expect that of him?

"Then why is half my..." he struggled for the right word, deciding eventually to just state what they were, even if it was only in blood. "..._family_...in my house under your leadership?!"

"He Facebooked me for a lift!" Jac informed him. "What did you want me to do? Just leave them there?"

"Yes," he retorted coldly. "That is exactly what I would have advised. Maja was right – he doesn't need my destructive influence in his life," he added the words Maja had said to him years and years before. "He's better off without me around."

Jac's blue eyes pierced him. It had always been difficult to walk away from Jac Naylor; she could captivate a person with only her eyes, but she would rarely let them in to see the damage she hid. "You don't mean that," she told him; she sounded so sure of her words that it almost convinced him his outlook was mistaken. "Look, I know this wasn't what you planned, Henrik, but he's here now. You can't turn him away!"

He stared at her for a long moment before stepped back and leaning against counter; he pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to understand how he was meant to handle this. His son was mere feet away on the other side of the wall. His daughter-in-law too. His grandchildren. And he didn't want them here. It was in his nature to hurt people. He watched it happen to Maja, to Serena, to Anya, to Eleanor...his weakness caused them all pain. He was not going to directly subject his own son to that.

"No, I want him out of here," Henrik decided. "I want them all out by the time I come back," he asserted. He grabbed his coat.

"Henrik!" Jac called after him, but he shut the door anyway and started walking. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going; he was only walking with the intent to escape the madness behind him. Separated from the situation, he realised that neither Jac nor Jonny were stupid enough to do this to him. The truth in Jac's face as she had defended herself had been undeniable.

But innocent or not she was now a part of this, because she had brought them to his door. She had always been a part of this, from the moment he had asked her for help with Facebook. She had willingly given him her understanding and her assistance. He knew she would continue to do so whether he liked it or not – one of the woman's more frustrating personality quirks.

Of course, Jac had always been this way; if she wanted something for a person she was almost certainly going to achieve it with or without that person's blessing. She was a good person. Messed up and backwards, but a good person nonetheless.

Serena, he realised now, had been lumbered with the mess he could not shoulder. Didn't she have enough to deal with? She said every day she was fine but he could tell she was still not quite right in the head. In all honesty, she hadn't been quite right in the head for years, but recently her deterioration had been rapid, but so had her improvement...but he couldn't trust the solidity of her mind to keep her from crumbling. Her entirety was strong, but singled out her mind was still fragile. He couldn't add this to her list of burdens. It was not fair.

To confuse Anya any further than she already was would be cruel. She had survived so much for her to be thrown off guard by the admission she had a brother and a niece and nephew. She was only a child. _His_ child. Just like Eleanor. Just like Fredrik. So why couldn't he embrace his son like he had done his daughters?

Eleanor was the only one in a fit state to deal with this, because her encouragement had got him this far, and she hadn't let life drive her around the bend. But then again, perhaps she had but in a different way. By distancing herself, maybe she had driven herself just as mad as he and Serena had. But he hoped not. He hoped Eleanor was the one person who was still whole and sane.

He stopped dead and looked around, looking for an answer to appear out of thin air. But sometimes life just didn't work that way; he knew that better than anyone. He knew life was a struggle and that some people got hell thrown at them over and over again. He knew he was perhaps one of those people.

"If everything went running smoothly, my dear Henrik, you would soon lose who you are," a long-forgotten voice reminded him. He spun on his heel and had to blink several times to try and make the image in front of him evaporate. "You will never change, will you, darling? Even when the excuses and old theories don't hold water, you try to keep them safe and dry."

Before him stood a woman with long dark hair, her eyes as dark as his, though she was far, far shorter than he. "Mother," he said quietly, looking around in case there was anyone to see him talking to what his rational mind knew was likely empty air. "Mother, what do I do?" he asked her desperately.

She took a step towards him, closing the gap between them as he looked down on her. "I hope you know, Henrik, that I am so, so proud of you. Even after the mess I made of my life, you are here with a family of your own. But you always were a bizarre child, my sweetheart. I cannot understand your thinking. You have taken on another man's children as if they were your own, so what is stopping you from taking on your own flesh and blood?"

He sighed and sat down on the nearest garden wall, staring at his mother intently. "I have never failed Anya or Eleanor. I've stood by them, done everything in my power for them, since the moment I became involved with Serena," he explained. "But it feels as if I have done nothing but fail Fredrik."

He watched her as she smiled slightly. "I will not contradict you there," she admitted. "But it was only through your mistakes with your son that you learned how to treat your daughters. You know now how to treat him, don't you?" Henrik nodded, waiting for his mother to speak again. He had forgotten the strange wisdom she had possessed even when he was a child. "He would not be here if he didn't want to know you."

"I know that," he sighed. "I know it's illogical to be frightened of being his father when I'm already a father to my girls."

He heard a sweet laugh and looked up at her again. "You will always be frightened. Everyone is frightened of something. Why do think I'm not able to tell you this in person? Why do you think I was not there to keep you on the straight and narrow when you were a young man?" she asked him gently. "And for that, I am eternally sorry. But it cannot be undone. My mistakes are irreversible. Yours may not be."

Henrik smiled. "I miss you," he confessed quietly. "I know I never say it, and I know I never talk about you, but I do miss you. I do love you," he added, feeling his eyes burning with tears. Crying in the middle of the street was not the best image, but he could not help it. The fact his mind had conjured up his mother to help him was overwhelming.

"Don't cry, my baby," she smiled sadly. "You are flawed, but even the most beautiful diamond is not flawless, is it?"

"It just so happens that my flaws are what brings pain to everyone I love," Henrik sighed. "And I do love Fredrik. Even I am not cold enough to be unable to love my own son. But I'm bound to make a total mess of it all."

"I know you, Henrik," she reminded him. "You will do absolutely fine. They are your family as much as Anya, Eleanor and Serena are." A smile spread across her pale face. "I should have known you would find a wild, damaged woman to love. You never did things the easy way."

Henrik let out a soft laugh. "Why take the easy road when complexity is so much more interesting?" he joked.

"But she is your rock, and you are hers," she recognised their love for each other, and the reliance they shared. "And she will stand by you while you correct your mistakes. So, my sweetheart, you will dry your eyes," she ordered him. "You will stand tall." He stood up and towered over her. "And you will go home to your family."

He started walking, leaving her behind with only nod as he passed her. Once she was out of sight, he whispered, "Thank you, Mum."

"I love you, my dear."

He walked slowly in the direction of home, where his family and friends remained. They had known better than to chase him. That, at least, had prevented him having to deck Jonny just to find solitary confinement from those who loved him.

He reached his front door too soon, silently opening and shutting it as he heard the familiar sound of his wife's voice telling them all it was going to be fine. That he was going to come to his senses once he cleared his head. She knew him too well.

In the background of the silence was a song he knew and loved, and for a moment he stood in the kitchen and sang along with the bereaved woman singing. "_And all those years to prove how much I care; I didn't know it but you were always there; 'til September when you slipped away; in the middle of my life on the longest day_..." He heard footsteps but did not look up, knowing it was his wife. "_Now I hear you say..."I'll be watching you from above; 'cause long after life, there is love...Baby, I'll be watching you from above...long after life, there is love_._"_"

He looked up and saw, as his mother had predicted, Serena, holding a hand out to him. He gently took it and let her guide him to the living room, where Fredrik immediately stood up at the sight of his father. Utterly clueless when Serena let him go, he took a tentative step forward to his son. He held his hand out, and Fredrik instantly took it.

The pair stared for a moment at their joined hands. How could something so frightening come as easy as air at the same time? "Fredrik," the younger man cautiously introduced himself.

"Henrik," he answered. He was taken aback as he was pulled into a tight embrace. In the corner he saw his mother – his hallucination and saviour – smiling at the sight before her. Her son and grandson finally part of the same family.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I don't know how this chapter went down this road, but I think it needed to happen, because even the hardest of rocks can be cracked by something or other. Thanks again for all the reviews and to everyone who is reading this.**

**Sarah x**

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Serena watched as Henrik got into bed beside her, wondering if he was as laid back as he was letting her think. She was unsure of the situation herself, and she had seen her husband terrified as he had stood in the doorway of their living room. He was not an easygoing person so the façade disturbed her slightly. It was with great concern that she looked over his face; the lines of a night's worry – of a lifetime of worry – were beginning to set in, and his eyes were empty and yet full at the same time. She didn't like it.

He was pale and withdrawn, more so than she had been expecting. When Fredrik showed up, she had expected a tantrum, definitely. A walkout, perhaps. But she hadn't expected him to put on the mask. She hated that mask. It was a picture of calm and peace until she looked into the depth of his eyes and saw a harrowing fear and a crippling agony.

"Are you OK?" she asked him gently. He looked at her and she immediately knew the answer. He wasn't OK. He may have come home, but he was still torn. In the spare room were his son and daughter-in-law. In Eleanor's room was his grandson. Sharing a room with his youngest daughter was his granddaughter. He had to be confused.

He cleared his throat and lay down next to her. "No," he whispered. "No. I'm not OK."

"It's not a sign of weakness, sweetheart," she sighed. "Come on. Spit it out." She lay down and faced him. "Don't make me drag it out of you," she smirked, laying a teasing hand on his stomach. He glared at her, his expression stony and cold. "Christ," she breathed. "Must be bad."

"Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry. I shouldn't take my...feelings...out on you. I have a bad habit of doing that."

"Tell me."

"What?"

"Tell me what happened while you were out," she ordered him lightly. "You came back looking like you'd seen a ghost." He looked around at her and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "Henrik, please don't pull the shutters up on me," she begged him when she saw him closing off. But it was too late. The admission that he wasn't as fine as he pretended was as much as she was getting out of him.

He wanted to tell her. She could see his mind battle with his heart, reminding her that his dagger and shield were never really laid down. They were only ever lowered, ready to be raised once more when he stepped onto the battlefield emptied of everything but its ghosts. _Their_ ghosts. Ghosts they ran from, and hid from huddled together when they finally couldn't outrun them any longer.

What she thought he needed was a good old hard knock, to see everything from the bleak stance of having fallen to the ground. She believed that only then would he truly understand how much his pain had consumed him over all the years he had lived with it.

Giving up – at least for tonight – she sighed and picked up her book as she sang absentmindedly. "_What are you thinking tonight? I don't know you; my words disappear in the night; and there's no-one there to notice_," she sang to herself. She suddenly realised what she was singing, and glanced at Henrik, who was staring at the ceiling. "_Maybe our lives will never be the same; we can face tomorrow if we can just get through today; I'm holding back the tears while you're pushing me away; but on the surface, everything's OK; yeah, on the surface, everything's OK_..."

She realised too late that she was in fact crying, and that Henrik would have seen by now. She cursed her weakness, reminding herself she was meant to be helping her husband, not falling apart on him. She wiped the tears away.

When she looked around again, Henrik's dark eyes were locked against her, pushing her out and drawing her in at the same time. "Serena..." he moaned quietly.

"Henrik, tell me this," she said. "Is this us hitting the rocks?"

"No!" he immediately answered. "No! Of course not! What the hell gave you that idea?!" he demanded of her. His passionate denial startled her and yet reassured her. He wouldn't have reacted like that had he not been genuinely shocked by what she had said.

"You're pushing me away," she accused. "You won't let me in." His eyes ripped through her, making her heart beat faster and her hands start to shake. What was he going to do? Walk away from her? She felt the irrational fear of losing him start to drown her, even though she knew he would not pull a stunt like that in front of the son he was trying to do right by.

Serena put her arm right around his front so he couldn't easily leave her. "Listen to me," he whispered, his voice cracked and barely audible. "It's not that I don't want you to know. I just can't help the way I feel when I admit these things."

She watched him with great intent, trying to decipher the cloud of madness surrounding him yet again. "What things, Henrik? You can tell me," she assured him.

"I..." he said. "When I went out, I was lost. I didn't know where I wanted to go...all I knew was that I needed away from here. And I was walking along the street when I heard a voice. I turned around my mother was standing there," he admitted. She smiled sadly to herself. She knew he was telling the truth; he wouldn't lie about anything that concerned his mother. "She convinced me to come back."

She stared at him and said, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Henrik." He draped his arm around her with an expression of extreme relief upon his skinny face. "What do you think it was?" she asked curiously.

"My mind," he answered with a sigh. "My mind looking for someone to show me the right path."

"Well," Serena smiled. "Whether it was just your mind or whether she actually was there, I'm glad she made you come home," she explained. She looked inside him, seeing the pain of an abandoned child and a lost innocence in him. He was a quiet man – he always had been and he always would be – but she often wondered how he grew up. When he grew up. Because it was the one thing he never spoke of. "You never speak about your mum," she said. "What was she like?"

Henrik looked reluctant, though whether it was out of habit, fear or pain was unknown to her. "Broken," he answered honestly. "Even when I was a little boy she was a broken woman. But she never cried," he explained. She let him speak, wondering if he had ever spoken of this to anyone. His father, maybe, but she doubted the man would have pushed him through force or circumstance until he relented. Maja, perhaps, had that power over him, even to this day. "She was beautiful. Pale skin and dark hair and eyes. She was kind, generous and loving, but filled with fear. She was Danish," he clarified. "She escaped to Sweden during the war after her brother was killed when she was nine years old." His voice was cracked and hoarse when he continued, "Nothing reduced her to tears, but everything reduced _her_. When my father did a disappearing act, it reduced her until she committed suicide." Serena closed her eyes and her grip on him instinctively tightened. "She filled her pockets with stones and walked into the water until she was taken in by the current."

"Oh, Henrik," she whispered as she opened her eyes into his. "Why didn't you say anything?" He shrugged, and she realised how much pain it caused him to even think of all this, never mind to speak of it. The tears welling up in his eyes were in serious danger of spilling over; it was rare to see him actually cry. But here he was, intertwined with her, about to cry his heart out. And it was about time, too. He needed to let her love him. This was the problem – she knew him so well, but he was so bent on saving her that he would not allow her to do the same for him until his heart gave him no choice.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She gave a short, incredulous laugh. "What on Earth for? For remembering your mum? For letting it out?" she asked him. "You really are an odd man sometimes," she smirked. He smiled as tears fell down his face. "Oh, come here," she commanded him. She held him tightly in her arms, and his face was buried into her neck as he attempted to reign himself in. "You just have a good cry, darling. God knows you need it."

It had taken him years, and many trips to hell and back, but he had finally completely fallen. He had come close before now, on several separate occasions, but had always stood, battered and bruised, through everything. But to truly heal the oldest of the scars he had to fall completely, and she had to lie on the cold ground with him until she could help him to his feet again.

But now, to feel his tears against her neck and hear his silent sobs for minutes that his pain made feel like years to her, she realised that this wasn't just to do with his mother. It was his mother, his father, his son, his daughters, his wife, himself...it was only now that it all had overwhelmed him after a lifetime of being far, far too strong. It was always going to happen; she just had never known which of the many traumas was going to trigger it.

"You're like your mother," she informed him gently. "You feel everything humanly possible, but you're so terrified of being broken that you keep it to yourself. All those things you say to me, Henrik, about telling you how I feel and what I need and how you can help, and you go and do this to yourself," she scolded. "You should have done this years ago."

"Contacted Fredrik?" he asked her, his mouth still leaning against the skin of her neck.

"No," she smiled. "Fallen apart."

"It wouldn't have been fair on you," he reasoned as he pulled his face away from her neck and looked her in the eyes, though his arms were still locked around her. "It's not fair on you now, never mind all those years ago."

She rolled her eyes; trust Henrik to put her feelings before his when all this time he must have been in pain. "Now you listen to me, Henrik Hanssen," she said sternly. "What's good to give is good to take, you silly man. And if you can kept me afloat when I'm drowning then I am going to do the same for you."

"I'm meant to look after you, not the other way around," he explained his way of thinking.

"No, Henrik. We look after each other, through thick and thin," she answered him back. "Neither one of us is infallible. We need each other. Don't you realise that? Even when it feels like the world is being ripped open and you're free falling through hell, you can come to me. I'll still love you if you're shouting or silent or crying...I'll love you through anything."

He didn't say anything but she knew he had got the message when he leaned in and kissed her softly. His arms were like a vice around her, like he was scared she was going to just disappear or crumble into dust before his eyes. The only thing he said was, "I love you."

She broke their kiss and placed her hand on his wet, tear-stained face. She wiped the last of it from under his eyes and pressed her lips onto his forehead. "I love you. Always."

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


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